


I’m alone here, I think

by unluckyloki



Series: when the rest of the world sees a wall, we see a window (Witch AU) [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), The Sandman (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Character Death, Demisexual Character, Depression, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jason Todd is a good brother, Kon is bisexual | and knows it, M/M, Mutual Pinning, OC with aphasia, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Tim is bisexual | and figures it out, Witches, also- zombies and all the zombie gore you can expect, canon-typical violence in the last chapters, even though they all exist canonically in the same universe, events happen in Greece, kinda crossoverish with the Sandman, male witch, mentions of toxic situation in trans OC's family, non-explicit discussions of sex and sexuality, slowburn, some members of the Endless Family appear, there's also references to mythology, this happens post Kon's death | also after Tim Drake|Red Robin brings Batman back, trans OC, you don't need Sandman to read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-08-01 16:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 93,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unluckyloki/pseuds/unluckyloki
Summary: Superboy is fighting robots in San Francisco and remembers something that wasn't.There's a new priest in the Naxos temple appointed by Dream of the Endless.Kon is missing something. Tim is missing everything.One day Krypto practically drags Superboy to a remote island in Europe and there's a dark haired guy smiling at Kon like he knows him.Maybe he does.





	1. i looked for you at the start of every night

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make sense of the YJ and TT teams and ended up with a headache. So here's a mix of canon Young Justice and Tim's Titans groups.  
> Magic is a very important part of the story. It works weird in the DC universes, so I make up my own canon for it.  
> So, I love witches and I love Tim. Now I have them together.  
> if anything's unclear, let me know in the comments. I'll try my best to explain (only if it's not a secret still, for plot purposes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> introduction~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naxos and the temple are from The Sandman story 'Brief lives'. You don't have to read it to understand the story, but you can do it to imagine the place better. Also, Naxos is a real island in Greece. I made it smaller than it actually is for reasons.

It’s Friday morning in San Francisco and the Titans are fighting the featured villain of the week. Today, it’s a giant robot.

More accurately, it’s a giant robot with a lot of smaller robots inside. Which they find out only after Wonder Girl and Superboy punch the wrenched thing open. God, this is gonna be one of the top stupidest things villains have come up with in their “Dumb villain shit” list on the wall in the Tower.

Nevertheless, they are winning and Superboy feels giddy. Maybe it’s because punching huge robots in the face is fun. Maybe because this reminds him of something, but he can’t seem to put his finger on it.

But then he punches another human-shaped metal robot and there’s a glint of Robin’s ninja-throwing-star-thingy, and he can hear the tell-tale ‘swosh’ of his cape.

"It’s just like Metallo, Rob!" Superboy screams.

For a moment, it all feels right, happiness bubbling inside him and he feels like it could overflow.

"What are you blabbering about, you imbecile!" Robin snarls in reply, mid-kick.

Oh. Right.

He’d never called Robin ‘Rob’. Who’d even _want_ to call him that – the kid is more serious than most adults, true Batman’s son. The nickname simply won’t stick.

And he wouldn’t know about Kon fighting with Metallo. It was a long time ago, and, even though Kon was dealing with the creepy thing alone, he was absolutely awesome!

He doesn’t know why he said it.

That is so stupid, Kon wants to laugh.

***

 

It’s Friday evening half across the world. On a small Greek island in the middle of the Aegean sea the newest priest of an ancient order walks the steps up the mountain side. On top of the mountain, a small temple stands. It’s early spring and the wind on the mountaintop is chilly. It’s okay, though, because nights in Gotham used to get much more chilly than this.

The priest passes a crooked cherry tree and stops. He takes a small knife out of his pocket and cuts off a branch full of blossom. He walks on to put it on a small headstone just by the tree trunk. The sun is setting, bathing the white walls of the temple in orange sunlight. The priest opens the doors.

There’s only one room in the temple. A table and two chairs stand in the middle of it. On the table – a vase with flowers. It’s a different vase and different flowers every time the priest comes. But the ornament is always ancient Greek.

On the table top a head, completely devoid of a body, rests. It’s skin is pasty-white, lips just as colorless, hair dark-gray as ash of a burnt-out volcano. There’s not many people in the world that would believe that this small temple in the middle of a sea is the final resting place of Orpheus. There’s even less who would believe this:

The head opens it’s eyes and speaks.

''Good evening. Did you put a flower on her grave?''

''Good evening, lord Orpheus. Yes, I did. The sunset is beautiful today, you should see.''

The priest carefully lifts Orpheus’s head and puts it on the windowsill. Orpheus softly hums to himself and smiles to the setting sun while his young priest lights the candles in the temple. Usually, Orpheus is not very good at paying attention to his priests – it’s hard to focus on people’s names and faces when centuries pass like hours for you. But this one is special. Maybe, it’s because the whole family of the old ones died out all at once in one horrible accident. Maybe, because for some reason, he feels like this one is going to be his last one. He even remembers his name.

''How was your day, Timothy?''

The young mans smiles a small smile and starts retelling his day – about how the village is doing, how his neighbor’s cow gave birth to an adorable calf and how the plum tree behind his house is so full of flowers he’s afraid it might collapse later with the fruit. He spares no information, knowing now that Orpheus is hungry for details of a life he can not have.

When Timothy runs out of the stories to share, Orpheus is content to just look out of the window, in his countless attempt to count all of the stars. It may be a futile affair, but what better thing to do when you’re immortal?

''You know'', Timothy starts suddenly. ''You are the only person here who can call me by my real name.''

Orpheus does not comment on how strange it feels to be considered a person, when you have only your head left. He side eyes his priest, who’s staring out of the window aimlessly.

''How long have you been my priest, Timothy?''

''I came here last spring.''

''It’s been a year?''

''It’s been a year,'' he says in a hollow voice.

Orpheus is not used to reading people or having long conversations, but he finds his priest’s distress heartbreaking. He tries to reassure him.

''Do not be sad. Time passes quickly and humans can get used to anything. You will see.''

The young man’s shoulders droop and he tries and fails to hide his trembling hands. Orpheus wonders why he failed to comfort his pries, so he tries again.

''I could sing for you,'' he says softy.

His songs could always heal and help a hurting soul.

''I,'' Timothy says hesitantly, ''would like that. Thank you.''

 ***

While Orpheus sings his soothing song, Tim looks up, up and away, to the horizon.

It’s been a year. He is still waiting for them to find him.

That is so stupid, Tim wants to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch title - a [ line ](https://unluckyloki.tumblr.com/post/184454397533/inkskinned-i-looked-for-you-at-the-start-of) from r.i.d. 
> 
> Me: Tim’s perspective is the easiest for me to write! Also me: so I’m writing his scene from Orpheus’s perspective


	2. Start Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Titans have a mission in Europe.  
> Krypto has decided to fly away for some reason.

A Titans mission in Rome goes as smoothly as it could, with just one building doing up in flames. The problem is, the building is historical, and the flames came from a flamethrower Robin either got or lifted from Red Hood. And Kon is not looking forward to them explaining it all to Batman.

So, when Krypto, who accompanied him on this mission, suddenly takes off, Kon’s almost glad. It’s ‘almost’, because Krypto doesn’t listen to his pleas to come back and keeps flying on, somewhere southeast.

When they get to a small island and Krypto leaps forward even _faster_ , Kon can’t stop but wonder – did his dog hear someone in danger? Is there a supervillain ahead? He looses Krypto for a minute there and has to look for him with the help of his superhearing. Instead of someone in peril or angry shouts, he hears Krypto’s exited yelps and someone laughing. A small house comes next into view, and he has to stop for a second, hovering awkwardly over the ground.

There’s a person, as far as Kon can tell from what he can see, under Krypto. The dog is making all kind of exited sounds, yapping and barking and wiggling his tail, licking at the guy’s face fiercely. There’s hands snaking around Krypto’s sides, stroking and scratching. Okay, so if this guy is a villain, than Krypto had just defeated him with cuddles.

When Kon touches the ground and calls for Krypto, the laughing abruptly stops and the guy’s pushing himself up. The damn dog ignores Kon and doesn’t seem to want to leave the guy’s side.

And, okay, maybe Kon wouldn’t want to leave, too – the guy is _hot_. He must be around Kon’s age, his face young, fine-featured and handsome. He’s lean, but the part of his arms that’s visible suggests some muscles. His eyes are blue and hair’s charcoal black, contrasting with light skin. And the smile that he graces Kon with is the most blinding, welcoming, warm thing that he has ever seen. The guy’s eyes are on him, and only him, warm and absolutely happy. Kon thinks this is what it must feel like, to be welcomed home.

This is exactly the time Krypto chooses to pounce on the dark haired guy again, the sudden movement sending him back to the ground. Kon rushes forward to help, pushing Krypto to the side and offering the other guy a hand. His skin is unexpectedly rough, all calloused and hard.

“Sorry, Krypto doesn’t usually do this to strangers.“

The guy’s face falls. The blinding smile disappears and Kon’s already missing it, thinking about how he can bring it back.

“It’s no problem,”the guy says, and even his voice is nice and melodic in a way that makes Kon’s chest feel tight.“He didn’t bother me.”

They stay in an awkward silence for a few moments, and the dark haired guy looks everywhere but at Kon, becoming shy all of a sudden. And okay, Superboy had met people who got starstruck by meeting him, so it’s nothing new. The guy is probably a fan, judging by his reaction to Kon. But he doesn’t know what else to use for a conversation starter, so he pulls on a fake smile and blurts lamely:

“Hey! I’m Superboy. And you’re?”

The guy looks up at him and there’s something very serious, determined even, in his eyes.

“My name is,’’ the guy suddenly hesitates. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He huffs, clearly frustrated, but finishes with: “You can call me Elliot.“

“Elliot, it’s real nice to meet you, and I’m so sorry for Krypto being a _stupid dog_ ,” the last words are directed towards Krypto, who, for whatever reason, is glued to the other guy’s side and won’t budge when Kon’s trying to pull him away. “who should _listen_ to me!”

The dog has an audacity to look betrayed and, instead of going to Kon’s side, looks up at Elliot and whines, waggling his tail.

“My neighbor brought me some gyros. I was gonna have it for lunch,” the guy says suddenly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Maybe Krypto’s hungry? You two could stay and have lunch with me. I mean, if you’re not in a hurry to go somewhere else?”

Kon thinks back to Robin and his flamethrower. Also, free food. He decides that he’s not in a hurry. Elliot gestures towards the house and Krypto, the traitor, follows him without second thought. The extra plate and cutlery are added to the table in no time, and soon Kon finds himself with a plateful of food, a hot guy just in front of him and silence, only rarely interrupted by Krypto especially loudly chewing his portion. After a few minutes, Kon can’t take it and says the first thing that comes to mind:

“So, um, Elliot, you live here?“

As soon as the sentence leaves his mouth, Kon wants to shoot himself with a kryptonite bullet. Because how could he have said something so _lame_. Elliot gives him a small smirk, just the corner of his lips tugging up, but his eyes are gleaming mischievously.

“In a house in which we are having lunch right now? Apparently.“

Conner, his pride wounded, scoffs.

“Just wanted to hold a conversation. Geeze, you don’t have to be such an ass about it.”

Instead of being offended in turn, the guy laughs. Talk about unexpected.

“You could tell me what you’re doing here? I mean, not _here-here_ , but aren’t you an American superhero? Why so far away from home?”

“Mmm, well, we had this dope mission in Rome, but I’m not sure how much I can share. You’re a civilian, after all.”

“Yup,” the guy says. He seems offended, now, for some reason. “A civilian.”

“Sorry, man, you’ll probably see it on the news? I really can’t tell much, or I’m afraid Batman will appear in his bat plane and will beam me up to give me some ass-whooping.”

“Beam up..? You into Star Trek?” Elliot leans forward to him, now on the edge of his seat, his eyes comically wide.

“Watched a movie or two with the Team recently. I think Kirk’s cool, but I like Han Solo better. And Millennium Falcon’s waaaaay cooler than the ship in Star Trek. Falcon would totally win in a fight with them!”

“Enterprise, it’s called Enterprise. And why would they even fight, Enterprise is a science ship doing research!”

“Yeah sure, so that only means that they got nothing on the Falcon and it can beat ‘em.”

Kon probably shouldn’t have said it, because he sees how the other guy’s eyes light up in a scary kind of way.

“This is not only biased but also factually incorrect. First of all, the technology used for building the ship in Star Wars is way outdated compared to Star Trek universe. Second of all….”

Then he continues the rant about sizes and crews and general sience-y talk, but Kon tunes it out. He just watches with fascination as the guy in front of him opens up, throwing back his shoulders and talking with so much passion. It’s like a firework bursting suddenly in the dark night sky – you just can’t look away.

“Anyway, you should check the original series!” the guy claps his hands thus shaking Kon out of his dreamy state. “They’re way better than the reboot movies.”

“Aren’t those like, really old?”

“They’re worth it, I promise.” the guy smiles at him with a ghost of that first blinding smile.

Kon wants to say something about it, but then his super hearing picks up his name. Being said again and again, in a very irritated manner.

“Shit, the Team! I gotta go!”

Kon picks up Krypto and holds him tight, not willing to take any more chances. The guy – Elliot, he said his name was Elliot – jumps up from his bench and follows him out. Kon awkwardly hovers over the ground, not yet ready to leave.

“I...um… It was nice seeing you, Superboy.”

“Nice meeting you, too!” Kon shouts from where he’s hovering up in the air.

Elliot looks up at him, his arms crossed and hands gripping upper arms.

“Come again if you’re in the area?”

Kon tries his best not to smile like an idiot and at least try to look cool. With a handful of a wiggling dog, it’s not easy.

“Sure. See ya! Now I gotta go, superhero business calling!”

As he flies off, Kon thinks that Krypto is not that stupid of a dog, after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title - from Caitlyn Siehl's [ poem](https://alonesomes.tumblr.com/post/78510570406/start-by-pulling-him-out-of-the-fire-and-hoping)
> 
> Confused about what happened to Tim? Next chapter will (partly!) give you the answers.


	3. dreams are not soft things, but neither are you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He is to be called Lord Dream,” Abel says.  
> “Do not dare address him directly!” Cain says.  
> Tim thinks he is no longer sure which one is which. He also thinks he does not care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _flashback chapter~_  
>  events happen a year before Kon meets 'Elliot' __
> 
> this is an unplanned in-between chapter, because there's a pattern I want to follow with them.  
>  The next one is already half-done and will be up soon!
> 
> also - !WARNING! for panic attacks mentioned in this chapter

They say their names are Cain and Abel. They drag him through enormous but empty halls. He lets them.

“He is to be called Lord Dream,” Abel says.

“Do not dare address him first!” Cain says.

“Be humble.”

“Don’t stare like that!”

“Fix your clothes.”

Tim thinks he is no longer sure which one is which. He also thinks he does not care.

They bring him to a huge chamber, decorated in various shades of dark-blue, the ceiling covered in silver stars.That must be the right color for the creature that controls the Realm of the Dreaming.

The creature – lord Dream – is standing near a heavy wooden table when they enter. Dream is thin, white-skinned and tall. His dark hair is sticking up in different directions. He’s wearing simple jeans and a shirt, and Tim minutely thinks he looks very human. Then, Dream turns.

His eyes are black galaxies littered with stars and Tim can swear he could recognize a constellation or two looking into them. He towers over Tim like a marble statue. No, Tim thinks, there is no way he could’ve ever been confused for a human.

“Hello, Timothy.”

His voice feels weird and isn’t it a peculiarity in itself, that the voice _feels_.

“My sister told me of your…situation.” Dream says, his brows furrowed.

The pause that follows is long and uncomfortable. But he’s glad that Dream is not mentioning _the situation_. He doesn’t want to think about it. He maybe wants to throw up.

“She thought you may be of assistance to me. I am currently in search of a substitution for priest in the temple dedicated to Orpheus. Orpheus is my son. He can not care for himself, he is in need of help and company. I can not do it, for I have promised not to interfere long ago. I am offering you the position of the priest in the temple. Humans need a purpose and this may be yours. Seeing as you have nowhere to go, I think you may want to accept the offer.”

There’s really a lot to unpack and ask here, but Tim is finding himself concentrating on the fact that Dream talks a bit like Damian. Tim never thought he'd miss the little demon until he does. And then the “you have nowhere to go” part hits him. It’s suddenly hard to breath. His hands are trembling and his vision becomes blurry. There’s pounding in his head and it won’t stop even when he covers his ears. It’s been less then a few hours since he had his first panic attack, a part of his brain thinks. The other, larger part of his brain, screams.

He’s not sure how long it lasts. He misses a lot of what is happening around him. When he comes back to his senses, a cup of water is being given to him. Someone must have made him sit on the couch. A pair of cold hands holds him by the shoulders. The touch doesn’t feel real, like he is being held through layers and layers of woolen sweaters. Is he in shock? He must be in shock.

“I’m sorry,” Tim finally manages.

 _“_ There is nothing to be sorry for, little one,” Lord Dream says and his voice is soft like rustling of wings at night. “I have forgotten how humans can be. Today has been too much for you. You need to sleep.”

Tim is shaking his head violently.

“I can’t!”

“Do not worry. You will not dream. It is alright.”

Tim wants to say that nothing's all right and it may never be again, but then he hears soft rustling sound of what feels like sand. He falls into a dreamless slumber.

***

When Tim wakes up, he thinks he must have fallen asleep in Bruce’s study. Because he’s on the couch in a big room with bookcases and there’s a heavy mahogany desk nearby. When he sits up, a blue quilt covered in silver stars slithers down his legs and to the floor. There’s a man with dark hair sitting behind the desk. He is wearing what looks like a dark-blue cloak and there’s an hourglass full of black sand in his hands. _Oh_.

He remembers all from yesterday and it’s not a pleasant memory.

“Timothy,” Dream nods to him.

“Lord Dream,” Tim croaks. “My apologies for yesterday and...”

“As I said, you shall not apologize. Lucian had brought you food, you shall enjoy it and then we will continue our talk from yesterday. I will wait until you are finished.”

Dream goes back to what looks like toying with the hourglass. Tim turns towards a small coffee table and starts on his breakfast. Tim’s never been an eager eater, he could sometimes just forget to eat and only remember that he hadn’t because of nausea and his head spinning. Just like it’s spinning now, but he’s so nervous he’s not exactly sure he can eat a lot. Also, there’s an immortal ancient creature, in front of whom he had a mental breakdown just yesterday, waiting for him to finish his breakfast. This is not exactly appetite-inducing.

When he finishes and stands up, Dream looks at him with those night-sky-colored eyes.

“Are you up for a small journey?”

It’s not like Tim can exactly say no, so he simply nods. Lord Dream offers him his hand, and before he knows it, they are traveling through wind-whirls of colors. They end up on a mountaintop overlooking the wast body of water. It’s pitch-dark outside, so Tim’s not sure how much time passed. Come to think of it, he’s also not sure if they’re in the same realm as before. As if guessing his concerns, Dream speaks:

“The time you have passed in my Realm did not affect you. We are in the same day you left, merely a few oceans away. We are in a country you now call Greece. Here lies the temple of my son. I have started telling you about him, but I am not sure how much you remember.”

Tim feels his cheeks hit up at the reminder of his breakdown yesterday. He hopes Dream does not see it.

“You need a new priest to take care of him. I remember.”

Dream takes his time to continue, but, when he does, his voice is even more hollow then usual.

“Yes. Do you happen to know the legend of Orpheus?”

“I think I do. He was a singer and his wife died, so he went to the Underworld to retrieve her. I think he couldn’t, in the end, so in despair, he was traveling around, singing ballads of love lost. I think it all ended badly with some harpies involved?” Tim scrunches his nose in thought. Then it dawns on him. “Wait a minute, do you mean he’s that Orpheus? He’s… He’s not dead?”

“They were the bacchante,” Dream says, and his voice sounds tired. “He is my son, my blood. He could not go with Death. He’s still here. But... If you remember the legend, you will not be surprised that there’s not much left.”

Tim gulps and nods.

“There were generations of a family of priests who overlooked the temple. But they went into the sea and never came back. And even a day without care is a day too long for my son. He needs the room aerated and the temple cleaned and some company in the beginning and end of the day. I believe it is not much. If you think you are ready, I would like you to go meet him. He had been informed of a visitor coming.”

Tim nods, because he is not sure he can manage any words. He goes to the temple, the small white building with round roof. Dream does not follow him in.

In his life as Robin and then Red Robin he had seen many strange things. But life had surely not prepared him for a severed head on the table, and it’s melancholic, but otherwise pretty much alive gaze. The head of Orpheus looks him over and speaks in a soft voice:

“Greetings. What is your name?”

Tim opens his mouth to answer, but no sound comes out. He tries again, but to no avail. Suddenly horrified, he understands – he simply _can’t_ say his name.

“It is alright if you do not want to say it. Your name have been told to me, I have merely tired to be polite. Timothy, isn’t it? My father wants you to be my new priest.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I have not a right to be fastidious. I shall honor my father’s choice. I have nowhere else to be.”

“Me and you both,” Tim echoes his melancholy and only then understands that he said it aloud.

Instead of getting mad at him, Orpheus smiles faintly.

“Then we may be a good company to each other. See you again soon, Timothy.”

Tim sees it as a dismissal and a welcome one. When he emerges from the temple, Dream is waiting for him by a big tree a dozen feet away.

“We talked. He says he’s okay with me.”

Dream nods, as if not surprised by the outcome. Tim thinks that he was brought here for a simple formality.

“You will have to come here every day at sunrise and sunset. You can stay with the widow of my late priest. I will lead you to her cottage, it is nearby. Do you have any questions for me?”

Tim looks up hesitantly at Dream.

“I couldn’t say my name when he asked. At all.”

“It would not be strange, if it was taken along with everything else,” Dream shrugs. “But it simply is a name. Choose another. I have a lot of names, but they do not change who I am. Neither do they for you.”

Tim does not think that who he is, without the family name or the vigilante title and gadgets and teams would mean anything. When he looks up at Dream, his face, morbid from the moment they stepped onto the land here, morphs into a softer expression. Suddenly, Dream outstretches his long fingers towards him and pats him on the head. He's as awkward as Bruce about it and Tim wishes his brain would stop those comparisons because they _hurt_.

There’s an ID in his pocket, the one he grabbed from his apartment in Gotham when he still had a chance. It’s new and he’s never used the alias before. He chose the name on a dare, because Steph was teasing him mercilessly about how lame his other alias were. He and Steph were watching a show that wasn't exactly to his taste together, and he took a name from one of the characters he actually liked. He puts the hand in his pocket and the ID feels like it burns in his palm.

“I think I’ll go by Elliot.” Tim says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch title - [ poem ](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bgj0VvrDLad/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet) by Nikka Usrula (and I think it fits Tim very well)
> 
> Coming next: the boys interacting again!


	4. first. he touches you and you light on fire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon gets in the way of multiple household chores. Krypto gets a new friend.

It takes Kon less then a week to get back to the island. It’s not even planned, okay? He just goes back to Rome to receive some award they decided to give the Titans (but, actually, to check on the renovations made near the main square, because the lecture spiced with the disappointed glare they all got from Batman was horrible and he’d rather not experience it ever again).

Krypto is with him, because dogs are cute and always good for boosting the public image in the media. Or Kon tells himself that. Anyway, after the interviews and posing for a few pictures, Kon takes of and follows Krypto to the same small island, just like a week ago. Soon they approach the cliff on which a lone house stands. Kon’s superhearing picks up a soft clicking sound and his attention swiftly zeroes in on a figure crouched on the roof. As soon as they start descending, Kon takes in the dark mop of hair and is sure that it’s the same guy they saw here last week. The guy doesn’t seem to notice them, completely occupied with his task. There’s a small hammer in his hand.

Krypto notices him, too, and that turns out to be a problem. The dog leaps forward enthusiastically and, before Kon can do anything to stop him, startles the guy. Who almost falls down to the ground and _maybe- probably- certainly_ at least a broken bone or two. If not for Krypto who manages to catch him by the scruff of his shirt. So Kon and Elliot end up looking at each other, Superboy hovering and the other guy’s feet dangling. Elliot is the first to speak:

“Okay, this was embarrassing.”

“Um, sorry about that, man, I don’t really know what’s gotten into Krypto lately.”

Kon signals the dog to get down and they start descending to the ground.

“But, hey, on the bright side, I think someone stole your ladder?”

Elliot huffs a laugh and shakes his head. There’s amusement shining in his eyes and it makes Kon feel proud, for some reason, as if him making the other guy feel it is worth some prize.

“How, exactly, someone stealing my ladder is a good thing?”

Kon puts on his best camera-ready smile.

“Well, see, you didn’t even notice it wasn’t there! So it’s good we were here to help you get down.”

Elliot laughs again, with that short, barking laugh, that makes his whole body shake.

“No one stole anything, there was no ladder,” he says. To answer Kon’s puzzled expression, he adds “I was just gonna climb down.”

“Just climb down from the roof of a building?!”

Elliot just shrugs and turns towards the house. Krypto trots after him. For the lack of any other choice, Conner follows.

“I climbed a lot of tall buildings when I was younger.”

“I didn’t notice many buildings on the island, they all are really small. Or, wait, is 4 stories tall, like, tall for a village?”

“I used to live in a city. There were bigger buildings.”

“Where did you live before?”

“New Jersey.”

Kon has to stop here, because, honestly, it’s a shock.

“Wait you’re American?!”

Elliot turns around and raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

“Did you think every person in every other country is supposed to know your language?”

“Um. Yeah, sorry, that was dumb.”

Elliot looks at him for a moment, as if analyzing, but then smiles that half-smile of his that makes Conner’s heart flutter.

“Are you here for the awesome village free food again, Superboy?”

Kon quickly shakes his head, because geez, now this guy is gonna think he’s some kind of a freeloader, but Krypto barks loudly and happily nudges Elliot’s hand. The guy laughs.

“Tough luck today, boy,” he says to the dog affectionately, leaning to rub him behind his ears. “I’ve only got bread from the local bakery, and maybe some feta. You may have made the journey for nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s for nothing!”

When Elliot looks up at him sharply, Kon finishes lamely, gesturing around:

“This … this place is lovely.”

Part of Conner’s brain is screaming _lovely what kind of word is that are you a 70 year old grandma_ , while the other part of him notices Elliot’s shy, small smile and lights up.

“I guess it is. It grows on you.”

To escape the awkward silence that he can already feel building up, Kon grins and adds:

“And there’s this awesome village food.”

“Oh, you could have pretended to like _me_ at least for a few more minutes,” Elliot teases with a smile.“Wait here on the patio, I’ll bring the food.”

Kon mutters under his breath about how someone’s so fancy that he has to call a small area with a table and two chairs a _patio_ , but smiles anyway. When Elliot gets back, with bread and cheese and some lemonade in ceramic mugs, they settle down and talk about cities and small towns. The sun slowly creeps down the horizon and they both end up watching it cast orange light over the sea. The silence – comfortable this time – settles over them. After Krypto finishes off the last piece of bread, Elliot speaks up:

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” he’s not looking at Kon. “It’s nice that you did. But now I really must go.”

“Oh, yeah, it was nice, too. For me. And Krypto’s delighted, little devil. And I mean, you probably got places to be and people to see, right? But, um, is it OK if I come visit again?”

Kon’s not sure why he’s so nervous, but when Elliot smiles and simply nods, it makes him more energized that 10 cups of coffee could.

He flies off, Krypto in tow, and this time the dog doesn’t struggle. Maybe, because he knows they’ll come back.

***

 

“I don’t think you understand how much this means to me,” Elliot says, looking at Conner with the most earnest, trusting expression. “I might even cry.”

Kon stares. It’s been just a few days after their previous meeting, and Kon only meant to drop by for a minute, tops. He’s already wasted too much time on choosing what to bring and panicking about it.

“Dude! I mean, you’re welcome, but it’s just a Caramel Macchiato from Starbucks?”

Elliot takes another rich sip from the cup in almost a religious manner. His dark eyelashes flutter as he exhales a small, pleased sigh. Kon really meant to stay for a minute, but it’s already been five and he can’t stop staring.

“Try not having any Starbucks for over a year and then we can talk. And I’m usually a black coffee person, but gosh, this is _divine_.”

“Geez, do people around here know that coffee is the true way to your heart?”

Elliot snorts.

“I don’t think someone would want it. But this, for sure, will earn you a share of any tasty food I’ll have next time. ‘Cause, as far as I remember, you were in a hurry?”

“Shit! Yeah, I gotta go! Just wanted to make sure you know I’m no freeloader!”

“I know, Superboy. See you next time.”

 

***

The next time Conner ends up on the island out of pure coincidence. And yes, walking your dog aka flying Krypto around the Earth counts as a coincidence. It’s a warm afternoon, the weather is nice, the sun is shining, and Elliot is not there.

Kon checks the garden and even the roof. Then listens to heartbeats – the closest he can hear must be somewhere in the village, down the hill. Kon settles down to wait in one of the chairs on the patio and sunbathe while Krypto runs around chasing butterflies. After more than an hour, if Kon’s reading the movement of the sun right, he hears a grumbling sound of an engine approaching. A red scooter pulls closer and Conner snorts, because, well, to put it mildly, the thing is _vintage_. Elliot hops down from it, to be met by exited Krypto. With his shoulders stooped and circles under his eyes, Elliot looks tired. Kon rushes to help with the bags that are still strapped to the old scooter.

“Have you trained your dog to feel food or something?” Elliot asks, raising an eyebrow sarcastically at him.

“Have you noticed that your ride is super-lame?”

“First of all, Vespas are classic. Second of all, my jobs don’t pay me a billion of dollars per month, so I had to settle for what I could afford.”

“Jobs?”

“Um, yeah, I got a few. One of which starts with sunset, but ‘till then I’ll be here.”

Kon takes this as an invitation to go inside and follows Elliot to the house. The guy disappears into the other room up the stairs, the part of the house where Kon hasn’t been yet. He sits on the sofa, Krypto sprawls on the rug nearby. Some time after, Elliot comes back and goes to the fridge - a small, old thing in the corner of the room. Kon doesn’t pay much attention to what he’s doing, looking around the house instead. It’s full of old trinkets, heavy books and there’s some weird figurines on one of the shelves. There’s also a distinct smell of herbs in the air. A few minutes later he hears Elliot’s voice directed into his general vicinity:

“Aww, just look at your cute little nose.”

Kon startles. Okay, first of all, his nose is not little. And he’s dashingly handsome, not _cute_.

“Dude what?!”

“Um. I. Sorry. Did I say that out loud?” Elliot’s cheeks are dusted with pink blush and _that’s_ what cute looks like. “There’s no one else to talk to around the house, I got so used to talking to her.”

“Talking to who?”

Okay, the guy was officially scaring him. Maybe there was a reason he was living in a solitary house on a hill, and not in the village? Some of Kon’s doubt must have shown on his face, because Elliot frowns and points his finger somewhere to Kon’s right.

“My cat.”

Conner turns his head to the right. On the back of the sofa, a few inches away from his head, a big orange cat sits. It looks comfortable in it’s place, as if it has been there for a long time. When Kon stares, it opens it’s yellow eyes and stares back. And then, suddenly, emits a low, guttural noise.

“Shit!” Kon screams and recoils back from the cat, hitting his back on the couch’s hard handle.

And Elliot, the moron, starts laughing.

“Why are you afraid of my cat you’re _invulnerable_!”

“I just didn’t expect it there, alright!”

“Cats are stealthy like that.”

Elliot doesn’t laugh anymore, but there’s still a smug smile on his face. He puts a plate with some meat in front of Krypto and puts two more – with some cake in them – on the table. Kon grumbles and pulls one of them closer. The wretched cat purrs like Elliot’s Vespa engine when the guy comes closer to pet it. Krypto inches closer, too, trying to look at the other animal.

“What’s your cat’s name?”

“Cookie.“

Kon snorts. The cat fixes him with a cold, unimpressed stare. Kon stops laughing abruptly. Meanwhile, Krypto, who’s usually not allowed on furniture, managed to squish himself between the two of them, inching close enough to sniff Cookie’s tail. The cat spares a glance at him, but obviously decides to ignore the dog.

“Ow. She’s not afraid of Krypto. Other animals usually are.”

“Really? Why?”

“I dunno. Maybe because they feel there’s something not exactly right about him. I mean, normally, dogs don’t fly? They don’t really like to play with him, so he gets real lonely sometimes.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. That’s sad. I can’t guarantee that Cookie would play with him, but she definitely won’t run away.”

“Okay, so I can bring him over for a play date?”

“Yeah,” Elliot smiles that warm smile that Kon remembers from the first time they saw each other, and it makes something equally warm in his stomach steer. It’s a good feeling.

***

The next time they meet, Kon makes the journey alone. And okay, he may have had a few topics ready in his head about how he can start the conversation, but all of them get thrown out of the window as soon as he gets closer to the house.

There’s a garden beside it, and in the garden, near one of the flowerbeds, is the person who Kon was looking for. Elliot is on his knees, digging at the ground angrily, grumbling under his breath. The moment Kon thinks that the view he’s getting from this angle is worth further investigation, Elliot sits up and turns around. He looks frustrated, hair falling over his face. There’s smudges of dirt across his cheeks and forehead. The moment their eyes lock, Elliot blushes.

“Oh. Hi.”

There’s some strange tool in his hand and, looking closer and mentally taking away all the dirt, Kon finally recognizes it. He grins so widely his cheeks hurt. Elliot narrows his eyes at him, his gaze calculating. His blush creeps up to the tips of his ears, which are visible because his hair is pulled up in a loose ponytail.

“Stop grinning or I will stab you.”

“Dude, that’s a plastic fork.”

“I _will_ find a way to stab you with it!”

There’s something very dangerous in the sharpness of Elliot’s gaze, but Kon’s never been the one to shy away from danger. He tries to school his expression into something more serious but fails miserably.

“Man I understand why it can be easy to mix it up, but there’s this subtle difference between a _weed_ fork and a _plastic_ one!”

He gets the said fork thrown into his face for this. The wet dirt gets stuck to his cheek and blobs down onto his shirt, smudging all over it. Somehow it makes the situation even funnier and Kon collapses to the ground, laughing. Elliot, sitting just beside him, covers his face with both hands and his shoulders start trembling. For a moment Kon panics – _is he upset did I make him cry oh geez what do I do_ – but then a wheezing snorting sound comes from behind Elliot’s palms and he understands that the other guy is laughing, too. They laugh together and it’s this stupid kind of laughter when the joke’s not even that funny, but the mirth is contagious.

“I had it I swear!” Elliot tries to explain, while still giggling uncontrollably. “The handle …. broke! I had to …. to use something else!”

“And you chose the plastic fork?!”

They fall into another fit of uncontrollable laughter. When it’s kinda hard to breath and Kon’s holding onto his sides as if trying to keep himself together, they both start to calm down. Elliot lies down, face up and looking at the sky, still trying to catch his breath. Kon lies down parallel to him.

“I’m going to take this moment to my grave. It will always be in my heart, you, with the plastic fork...”

“Oh, shut up.”

Elliot nudges him half-heatedly with his elbow. He looks at the flowerbed and all the weeds still in place and scrunches his nose.

“Ugh fine, I’ll do this later.”

“Why do you care for this garden if you hate it so much?”

“I don’t hate it!”

Kon gives him an unimpressed look

“Okay, but hate is too strong of a word, I just don’t think gardens are exactly my thing.”

“Why then?”

“Because Sophia said she’s going to reincarnate and come here and make my life hell if I mess up her garden, and I don’t need that type of negativity in my life now over _everything else_.”

Woah. That’s… a pretty loaded answer Kon’s not sure how to unravel. He decides to start with the basics:

“Who’s Sophia?”

“The owner of the house. It was passed down to me when she died, half a year ago.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. She wasn’t the type to want people to cry over her. Let’s go inside? I got donuts from local bakery, you gotta try them!”

They go inside.

***

This becomes a thing, for them. Kon, coming to the island with Krypto. Eating together and talking, while Krypto jumps happily around Cookie, who, unexpectedly, tolerates him with great patience. Sometime Conner brings fancy Starbucks coffee. The visits are never planned, so sometimes Kon is forced to sit on the porch and wait. When that happens for the third time, Elliot sighs that all-suffering, martyr type of sigh he usually reserves for Kon – _and he doesn’t even deserve it, okay? He’s great!_ \- and hides a key under a pot with bright-pink flower in it.

Sometimes, Elliot lets pieces of information slip through. He says he’s shit a cooking, and his brother is so much better. The other day, when Kon sighs about how difficult it can be to get along with Jon, Elliot sighs and tells him that younger brothers can be a handful. Then he looks to the horizon wistfully and Kon doesn’t dare ask more.

Today, Kon is bitching about Superman while stuffing his face with pickled plums. Elliot’s hanging the bundles of herbs on a line under the sunlight. Busy, he’s only offering sympathetic _hmms_ occasionally.

“And then Superman says ‘don’t do this’ and ‘don’t do that’ and ‘Conner, how could you do his’! And I’m just so fucking done with him pretending to care about what I do!”

The rustling of herbs and twine used to bundle them up stops. When Kon looks up at Elliot, the guy is fighting a smirk and loosing his battle.

“So,” he says with fake nonchalance. “Your name is Conner.”

Kon can practically feel his soul leaving his body. Did he just blurt his name to a guy he’s known only for a few month? Yes, he did. _Well, shit._

“So what that you know my name, I’m not famous like someone.”

“Is someone in the superhero community famous?

“OMG I’ve said too much!”

Elliot signs and shakes his head.

“I hope you never get captured by the enemy for questioning or the whole League is doomed.”

Elliot was supposed to leave for one of his jobs – it’s the repair one, if Kon remembers correctly – so Conner tries not to feel like a fleeting coward when he gets up and hastily says his goodbye, ready to leave. Elliot follows, looking at him warily.

“Um. Kon? Would you bring me some more coffee next time? I’ll buy those donuts you liked.”

Conner knows what he’s asking. He’s asking if they will meet again. And, even though he’s scared because of what he let slip, Kon smiles and nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title - from this [poem ](https://bedlamsbard.tumblr.com/post/99199496248/first-he-touches-you-and-you-light-on-fire-your) (a poem that is just soo TimKon, read it!)
> 
> I distinctly remember a panel with Tim and a cat and Bruce refusing to take that cat to the Manor. It always made me bitter, so now Tim has a cat. (also, I couldn't find the panel. If you google Tim Drake + cat you will not, in fact, find any feline animals).


	5. Learn how to make enough coffee for yourself alone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tim is adjusting to the life as a priest, has an existential crisis and discovers a lot of things about himself along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for suicidal\depressive thoughts and there's like one (1) mention of self harm.  
> Also, there's slight mentions of transophobia in one scene, so be careful if that can trigger you.
> 
> Kon is not in the chapter but he also kinda is.
> 
>  _flashback chapter~_  
>  events happen a year before Kon meets 'Elliot' __

 

He dreams of being six and alone in Drake Manor. All windows and mirrors are cowered with cloth. The only light in the room comes from thin flat pieces of glass installed in the upper part of the front door. The air is stale, the furniture’s covered in dust. It feels like a tomb.

There’s voices outside and he can hear them laughing and screaming playfully. But the doorknob won’t turn, no mater how hard he rattles it. Tim piles up a few chairs to look through the dirty glass. He sees the Waynes on their front lawn. Dick Grayson is chasing after his new younger brother, Jason, who hides behind Bruce Wayne, who’s trying not to laugh but fails and then there’s their butler, Alfred, bringing them a tray full of cookies. They’re so happy, and Tim’s all alone in the dead house. So he screams and bangs his small fists on the hard wooden door. It turns out that the construction he’s standing on wasn’t exactly stable and it gives out under him.

He falls and wakes up.

It’s still dark outside. The alarm clock on the bedside table glows an eerie green. Tim has 10 minutes until it starts blaring, so he can as well get up now. At least to try and shake off the remnants of the dream.

He drags himself to the kitchen on the first floor and makes coffee. It takes around fifteen minutes to do that, and he really misses the automatic coffee machine from his flat. He pours coffee into a travel mug and starts towards the temple. He wishes he had a bigger mug, but he has to settle for a purple Hello Kitty one. It’s not even his - Cass left it in his apartment. It ended up in the bag that arrived after him to the island. The bag’s half clothes and half useless, unexpected junk – a key-chain, an old handheld Tetris he didn’t know he still had, a tattered ‘Pride and Prejudice’ copy. In his defense, he wasn’t the one who packed it – Death did.

Tim didn’t have any illusions, he knew Death of the Endless came to him mostly because of her now possibly tainted reputation. And maybe that explained why she enlisted her brother to give him the priest title. But Tim still didn’t understand why an immortal being, the personification of death itself, would want to pack him a bag.

He once asked Jason what it was like to die. His brother said ‘death is kind’ and refused to elaborate.

Maybe that’s why.

Tim climbs the stairs up the mountain, looks for flowers nearby to put on a grave that says ‘Joanne Constantine’ on it. He opens the doors and windows in the temple and moves Orpheus around so he can see the sunrise. He stays to listen to the songs and the mindless chatter he’s not sure Orpheus even means for _him_. After an hour or so, he climbs down and goes back to the room in the cottage. He stays in bed, facing the wall.

The bag is still standing in the corner, discarded and unpacked. It’s been a week.

***

The owner of the cottage is an old woman with gray hair, knobby fingers and wrinkles that add severe sharpness to her round face. The oldest priest of Orpheus’ temple was her husband and their son-in-law and grandson helped him. But priesthood is not paid for, so they also were fishermen who went into the sea one day and died in a horrible storm. She laughs bitterly when Tim tries to address her as ‘Mrs Rhodocanakis’ and tells him to call her Sophia.

Considering how she glared at Dream, who she called Morpheus, she wasn’t very enthusiastic about a stranger living in her house, but let Tim stay anyway. Sophia says he has to earn his keep and gives him errands to do around the house. Tim does his best, even though he’s shit at most of it. He hears Sophia muttering something under her breath after he screws up another household errand. Tim’s not so good in colloquial Greek yet, but he’s sure she thinks he’s useless, and maybe he thinks so, too.

Sometimes people come to the cottage to visit Sophia, and Tim hides from them in the room given to him. He understands that he does that because meeting new people will solidify that _this is real_. Keeping away from others helps him retain the fantasy that someone will remember, someone will come for him. Tim understands it, he does – but he can’t do anything about it. And doesn’t it sum up his life now perfectly – not being able to act at all, feeling utterly helpless and hopeless. It’s not something he can fight through or logically calculate, non of his skills are helpful. He used to be Robin, then – Red Robin, he lead teams and battled powerful enemies, used to fly over one of the most corrupt cities in the world and bring hope. None of that matters anymore. He doesn’t matter anymore. Some days he feels despair swirling in his veins and wants to scream but claws on his arms instead until he bleeds. Most days, he just feels numb.

There is an old greenhouse behind the cottage filled with sage and rosemary and some other herbs. Sophia barely comes here since watering the plants became one of Tim’s daily tasks. So, when Tim feels like his lungs collapse into the enormous void inside him, he goes there and curls on the floor in the further part of it, near lavender bushes. That’s his breakdown corner now.

Soon it feels like days merge into one. Tim’s life now is only punctuated by the dawns and the dusks. He still drags himself up and down the stairwell to the temple every day - because he _promised_. And maybe this promise is one of the only things that keeps him going. Sophia gives him less and less tasks around the house. He gradually feels more and more useless. They only exchange a few phrases when he goes down to eat, but that happens less regularly. He mostly sleeps or just lays in the bed and stares at the wall in his room.

One day Tim closes the doors to the temple but doesn’t go back to the cottage. He just feels so tired and weak that going down all of the steps seems like an impossible task. Maybe it should be funny, how he could take down enemies twice his size when he was 14, but hasn’t worked out in weeks now and struggles with simple staircase. And it sure should bother him, but, for the first time in days, it doesn’t. Tim feels strangely detached from his skin, absolutely exhausted and lost. He collapses to the ground and ends up on his knees, and he knows there’s sharp stones under him but he can’t feel them, it’s almost like out-of-body experience. Today the morning is warm and pleasant, but Tim feels cold. There’s a strange numbness in his head, thoughtless static noise. A few stones scatter down the cliff edge and he follows their fall with his eyes. The dark sea water swirls and crashes into the rocks and almost calls for him.

A swallow flies by, really close to him and unafraid. It’s soft wing brushes his cheek for a second and that makes him flinch. Next thing Tim registers is that there’s Sophia behind him and she’s forcefully dragging him away from the edge. She makes him sit on the headstone under the cherry tree and digs her fingers into his shoulder. Her eyes burn and her hair’s disheveled and Tim thinks that maybe furies looked like this. Then he registers that she’s been yelling at him in heavily accented English for quite some time now.

“Stupid boy!” she finishes the string of curses he’s not sure he heard before.

“No, I.. I wasn’t gonna...”

Tim’s shaking, but it’s so sunny, so why is he shaking?

“For hours! And when I come all the way up here, you stand and look down to the sea! What you look there for, huh?”

Tim’s having a hard time breathing now. How can she ask that if _he_ ’s not sure what’s just happened?

“No, you don’t understand. I wasn’t going to…..”

And suddenly he’s crying and maybe that’s even more embarrassing then crying in front of Dream of the Endless because Sophia stared _him_ , the immortal supernatural god-like creature, down. But he can’t seem to help it, so more and more tears come until he’s left shaking all over. Tim expects an exasperated sigh and maybe for her to turn around, but instead Sophia calls him a stupid boy softly and hugs him. And she hasn’t been explicitly unpleasant to him before but also it’s the first time she’s genuinely nice and it makes him cry harder.

“Breathe,” the old woman orders, softly caressing her knobby fingers through his hair. “Just breathe.”

Tim breathes in the smell of lavender from her apron and closes his eyes.

***

Tim’s not sure how they get down from the mountain. He just remembers crying there and then waking up in the cottage the next moment. There’s multicolored flowers in vases and jars all over the floor, smell of incense in the air. A small mirror on the wall is covered with a cloth, and it makes Tim shudder, reminding of a reoccurring bad dream. He sits up, hugging his knees to his chest. He’s almost sure he can hear wings flutter, but when he turns to the window, there’s nothing but the curtain blowing in the wind. Sophia enters the room soon and presses a cup with honey-colored liquid in it into his hand. It smells like herbal tea. Sophia sits in a chair that she probably dragged from the hallway and looks expectantly at him. Tim mutters his thanks and sips the tea. It’s too strong, but he doesn’t put it down. To starts the conversation somehow, he nods to the mirror.

“What’s with all the ... decorations?”

“Can’t take it down, so I covered it. You don’t need despair looking over you now. Flowers – for hope and strength. I put heather near mirror, so you don’t move it. My mom used to tell me it is for protection, they use it where she is from.”

“Where’s she from?”

“She was Irish born, but came here to live. She spoke her language to me and told me things, I still remember some.”

Oh, that explained a lot – why Tim thought that Sophia’s accent didn’t feel entirely Greek.

“Is this why you use English with me? I thought you just didn’t like my Greek.”

“Your Greek was okay,” the old woman huffs. “You _–_ not okay.”

Tim lifts his gaze to her at that, suddenly terrified, because what if this is the moment Sophia finally tells him he’s weak and useless and unwelcome here and where would he even _go_? But the old woman pats his knee instead.

“You stay home today and rest,” she says firmly.

“But Orpheus!”

“Can stay there without you. Once will not kill him.”

Tim shakes his head.

“No, I can’t do that, I promised.”

“Your promise worth nothing if you jump of a cliff.”

Tim can practically feel his heart drop. Was that what he was going to do? It all seems like a blur now, but the more he thinks, the more he remembers. He’s sure he’s about to choke on absolute shame that fills his mouth and the need to find excuses maybe even when there’s none makes him say the following words in a single burst.

“But if I don’t do what I promised once it will give me more and more excuses not do it at all and I don’t think I’ll keep it together if I’ll have nothing to occupy myself with; I used to have so much responsibility, back at home, so many things and all at once, something I was _needed_ for and I don’t think I know how to live a normal life anymore, how to stop fighting when there was always a new enemy, a new challenge, something I had to investigate or overcome and even if I wanted to go somewhere there’s literally nowhere I can go also because I don’t even have any money? I’ve lost everything and there’s nothing I can do about it and it’s driving me insane!” Tim understands he’s almost screaming and deflates, adding in hushed, broken whisper “I just... I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Sophia looks at him, steely-eyed and serious.

“You get up. You do _something._ It gets better, a little amount every day. And then a little more. And a little more. And then one day comes and you remember it was bad but don’t feel it no more,” the old woman then reaches out and takes his face in her hands, holding his gaze firmly. “Now, you drink your tea and rest. When the sun go down, you can go to the temple and if you try something funny I will know, do you understand?”

He nods and she smiles a small, pleased smile that maybe makes him think about Bruce a little. Or maybe a lot and there’s also his family and maybe he will never get to see them again, and even if he does see them, will they even _know_ him?

“And no thinking too much,” Sophia adds, tapping her knuckles on his forehead. “You get back and we can think about it together.”

Tim does just as she says. If Orpheus notices that something’s wrong with him, he says nothing. When Tim comes back, there’s a slightly different herbal tea on the nightstand near his alarm clock. He falls asleep and doesn’t dream.

***

The next day, after Tim gets back from his sunrise visit to the temple, Sophia barges into his room with an armful of clothes.

“Get dressed and go to the interview for work,” she commands, dumping the clothes onto his bed. “I go with you down to village, we need food. You will bring bags back.”

And she disappears as swiftly as she entered. Tim is left to look for something to wear. The clothes don’t look new, but seem well looked after. They must have been Sophia’s son-in-law’s or grandson’s and he really doesn’t want to intrude, but there was noting in his bag that fit the requirements of formal wear. He dumped all of it’s contest in the center of the room to make sure that he remembers correctly, but there was nothing appropriate. Probably because Death looked through his clothes and scoffed at the formal wear but was really exited by some of Dick’s ridiculous gifted T-shirts with neon prints. He selects a reasonable button-down from the pile on his bed and gets dressed.

He finds Sophia downstairs. She is puling a string shopping bag out of the cupboard.

“What kind of work is it, exactly?”

“There’s school and they want better English. You can do it, it’s only talk.”

Tim’s brain shortcircuits. School’s where children are, and when was the last time he interacted with children? Maybe they’re the same age as Damian and his relationship with him is a disaster on the best of days. Maybe he’s just doomed to be bad with children. Sophia interrupts his burning train-wreck of thoughts by tapping her knuckles on his forehead. He hopes it won’t become a pattern.

“You can do it,” she says more resolutely.

Tim breathes in and out, trying to calm down. Sophia hands him a few bags and it’s a nice distraction for his restless hands.

“Okay. What’s our legend?”

“Legend?”

“What did you tell them about me?”

“You’re my nephew. You come from America. And they better pay you well.”

Tim snorts. Sophia gives him a once over, straightens his collar and seems satisfied enough. Then she makes him lift his left hand and ties a red thread around his wrist.

“For good luck,” she explains and Tim decides to humor the prejudices of an old woman and politely nods.

They close the door and head downhill, towards the village. Tim catalogs the road and the houses. The closer they get to the village, the more people they meet. All of them come to greet them. They are very polite towards Sophia and employ the same attitude towards her “nephew”, so Tim tries to smile politely. When they reach the school, he feels like he met most part of the population of the village. Sophia strolls in like she owns the place and heads towards what Tim presumes is the principal’s office. The secretary smiles at Sophia and scrambles to her feet, bringing out drinks and candies. She and Sophia begin to chatter in Greek and Tim spaces out. He comes to when the principal practically runs in and starts apologizing to Sophia for being late. The old woman nods curtly to Tim and tells him to find her at the marketplace.

The principal smiles at Tim. He’s a man with salt and pepper hair which seems unusual for someone who looks to be in his thirties. The name tag on his desk says Dimitris Florakis. He’s pleasant and nice and offers Tim part-time job with his own choice of hours – a speaking club with a few groups of kids. He says he understands that “Elliot”, as Tim has to introduce himself, will have to assist his aunt, to whom the principal swears his utmost respect. The principal winks at him after this and that leaves Tim blinking owlishly. They shake hands and Tim leaves the office having obtained a new job and a new shock – because did this man just hint at knowing that Sophia is not Tim’s aunt?

Suffering through a few awkward conversations on the way, Tim finds Sophia at the market place. He takes her bags and follows the old woman around the place as she finishes shopping. Tim notices that a lot of people seem to be reluctant to take money from her or give Sophia much more goods than she asks for. He decides not to ask, but does tell her about the principal being weird. Sophia laughs at that.

“Many families lived here for a long time and all have secrets. They are not blind, Morpheus is the only one to believe it.”

“You’re saying the whole village knows there’s an immortal head in the temple?!”

“Hush, boy. No, not that. They know there is something important and want to protect it. Why you think there are not many tourists here?”

Sophia smiles wryly at his baffled expression, then saddles him with more bags.

“Now, we go home. Rain will start soon.”

The sky is clear and the sun is shining, but Tim agrees. He has a lot of things to think about and there’s also the matter of getting ready for his first speaking club meeting tomorrow.

When they reach the cottage, the rain starts.

***

Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. That was Steph’s favorite meme. She’d send it to him over the most minor inconvenience and he’d always laugh.

It doesn’t feel funny anymore.

The newly added routines help, but not so much. Tim goes to the temple twice a day. He doesn’t have lessons each day, but, when he does, he goes to the school. There he can use a computer with stable internet connection – a luxury he didn’t even notice was absent from the cottage. Sophia says that electronic devices run into trouble in the house. Tim didn’t notice that before, mostly because his phone and laptop were not with him. The washing machine and all the kitchen appliances work, at least. Sophia gives him some more tasks around the house. He is being kept busy, on purpose more so than her needing his help. Tim barely ever sees her cleaning, but the house is kept clean and neat, with that warm homey feeling that the Drake Manor always lacked in it’s immaculate sterility.

The kids in the groups are nice, they are enthusiastic and like to bring him apples. They ask him all kinds of questions about his home county and some of the rumors are so bizarre he even laughs a little.

The principal, who insists on being called Dimitris, introduces him to the teachers and they are so precisely polite he feels like they might be scared of him. He still eats lunch at the teacher’s table and listens to the local gossip halfheartedly.

When the kids ask if he has ever seen Batman, Tim says he hasn’t. He then goes to check the latest news on Gotham Gazette web-site. Batman stops another shipment of drugs by the docks, Red Hood and Nightwing team up to fight Penguin, Robin is seen eating ice-cream with Batgirl and Black Bat. It’s like he’s never been there. Like it’s better without him, all pieces of the puzzle in place.

When he drags himself home, Sophia gives him more of her herbal tea then the usual amount she makes him drink every day and lets him stay in bed.

The weather gradually gets better, so the next day he takes the kids out to have the lesson in the school’s backyard. He hopes they will pay more attention to their improvised picnic than to the black circles under his eyes. They do, and, maybe, their enthusiasm about the summer coming soon would have been contagious if Tim didn’t feel so numb.

It all goes smoothly, up until the moment when it doesn’t. There is a playground nearby, and younger kids are playing there. A boy with hair as wild as Bart’s catches his attention, right before the said hair is being pulled by a couple of bigger boys. Tim instantly springs to his feet. There was a reason he graduated early – not only because school was boring, but also because he couldn’t exactly find the common ground with his peers. He could never understand why some kids liked to pick on others. But back then he was a student and now he’s kind of like a teacher, so he has the authority to stop it. He tries the most Bruce-like ‘ _what is going on here_ ’ voice and puts his hands on his hips in a manner he knows Alfred does. The moment the bullies see him tower over them, they run.

The boy’s name is Theo. He’s seven and he likes playing with girls because they’re not mean and don’t make fun of him. He also likes to play with their dolls because he likes their pretty dresses – and that’s why the bigger boys were picking on him.

That’s what the girls tell him, because Theo is crying desperately. Tim tries to think about what Dick would do and settles on carefully hugging the child. He also notices the girls sticking their tongues out somewhere at the general direction he’s sure the bullies are hiding.

“There’s nothing wrong with dolls and you shouldn’t feel bad about playing with them”, Tim says to Theo clearly and loudly, in Greek. “If they ever pick on you again, you just tell me, okay?”

When crying subdues, the girls promise to take Theo back to class. They escort him to the school building like a group of tiny warriors. Wonder Woman would have been proud.

That day Tim goes back to the cottage and doesn’t feel like staying all day in bed anymore. It’s been weeks since he worked out, and maybe a good stretch may do him some good.

He is no longer a hero, but he can still make a difference. That’s a good feeling.

***

The next time Tim is about to leave the school, there’s a young man around his age standing near the gates. He’s got dark curly hair, like a lot of people on the island do, but there’s something special about the angle he’s at and the rays of sunlight illuminating him. Tim wishes he had his camera to capture it, but then the guy looks straight at Tim and walks up to him.

“Hey, I’m Nikos,” the handsome guy says in English and extends his hand towards Tim for a handshake.

“Elliot.”

“I’m Theo’s brother. I wanted to thank you for protecting him at the playground.”

“Well, I’m kinda a teacher, so it’s also kinda my duty.”

“Um, there’s some teachers here who yell at him for, you know, sticking so close to girls, and also our Mom keeps telling him to ‘be a man’, so it does mean a lot. Those boys have been picking on him for months, and now they’re terrified to go near him.”

“Oh joy. I can scare little kids.”

Nikos laughs at that and Tim smiles.

“That was for a good cause. For which I am very grateful.”

Nikos pauses at that and Tim is ready to open his mouth to say that it’s okay, but then Nikos, shifting uncomfortably, blurts out:

“Would you like to join me and my friends some time? I work in my family’s cafe, the one in the central square. It’s really small but nice and there’s not many people during the day.”

Tim blinks at that, confused. This is absolutely not the way he imagined his day going. Nikos takes his silence the wrong way.

“My friends are great, really! We can even pull out the projector and watch movies in the backyard, it’s fun! But if you don’t want to join us...”

“Oh, I would like to, but I think I have a group tomorrow afternoon and I’ll be in a hurry. How’s about Wednesday?”

“Wednesday sounds great!" the guy grins, "If something changes, just let me know through Theo.”

They say their goodbyes and go their separate ways. Well, a few people his age to spend time with can’t be that bad, right? Meeting the locals who are not talking to him only because of Sophia seems like something nice, too. And maybe he’s not exactly sure how to behave, because he’s not Tim Wayne with Bruce’s fame and the name of the Drakes towering behind him, and not Red Robin with the Bats and his stoicism. Tim guesses he’ll have to find out.

Musing it over, he doesn’t even realize how fast he gets back to the cottage. When he enters the house, Sophia is doing something with the herbs in the kitchen. Tim sits at the kitchen table, facing her.

“Sophia, can I buy a camera somewhere here?”

“A camera? Why?”

“I liked to take photos when I was younger. I think I was okay with it, it was a hobby of sorts. But I hadn’t done it in years and I thought, maybe I could pick it up again.”

“I have camera, you can take it. But it’s old.”

“It’s okay, thank you!” Tim jumps to his feet. “Where can I find it?”

“Behind you.”

When he turns around, there’s a camera on the table and he could swear it wasn’t there before. His perception is really all wrong these days. He takes it in his hands – it’s an old film camera, similar to one he used to have at home. There’s even a roll of film inside. He tinkers with it and takes an experimental shot of the kitchen and Sophia in it. She frowns at him for it.

“I think I’ll go outside. I’ve seen a crooked tree close to the forest behind the house, it looked interesting. Call me if you need me!”

“If nymphs speak to you from trees – you don’t go with them, understand?”

“Um, sure. Thanks again!”

Tim runs off, camera in hand. Maybe it will take him some time to get used to it and remember how he used to take pictures, but it’s a start.

***

Wednesday comes way too soon for his liking. Tim’s nervous and almost finds and excuse not to go, but Sophia physically pushes him out of the house and says she doesn’t want to see him till the sunset. He finds the cafe easily, because there’s only one in the central square. It’s very small, with only two tables able to fit, but the atmosphere inside is cozy and warm. Nikos smiles at him when he enters and drags him to the occupied table in the corner.

There’s two girls sitting at the table. One is wearing jeans and a denim jacket with a crop top under it, her blonde hair pulled up in a pair of buns. The second one is wearing a green dress and pulls at it’s hem, as if to cover her legs more. Tim smiles and hopes he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels. Nikos gestures to the blonde girl first.

“This is Kiki.”

Tim shakes the hand she extends and her grip is more firm than he would have expected.

“Nice to meet you,” Kiki grins.

The second girl is glaring at him and, before anyone has time to say anything, spits out forcefully:

“I’m a boy.”

The other two share a quick look and Kiki adds:

“His name is Nik, but we can only call him that when no one else is around.”

Tim nods at that and extends his hand towards him.  
“I’m Elliot. Nice to meet you, Nik.”

Nik nods and shakes his hand, but his look stays guarded.

“It’s not safe at home,” he adds. “Mom calls me Maria.”

They all look at Tim expectantly.

“Got it, I’ll be careful.”

Tim can see the other two exhale. Nikos brings them tea, Kiki pushes a plate with cookies towards him and starts pestering Tim with questions – about what his hometown was like and how does he like his new job and what he usually does when he’s not busy with work. Tim tells them about the day he spent with the old camera and it turns out Nik’s grandfather has a dark room in the house, so he can get Tim’s photos developed. Soon the conversation drifts off to favorite TV shows and books and Tim doesn’t even notice when time comes for him to head back to the cottage. Kiki wails that he’s leaving them too soon, Nikos sets up a day for their next meeting and Nik gives him a small, shy wave.

It’s a good day, and up in the temple Tim hums along while Orpheus sings.

 ***

Alongside the weather, Tim starts warming up to the village. He knows probably all of the villagers by name now, and when they ask how he’s doing it does seem genuine. The meetings in the small cafe happen at least once a week. Sometimes Nikos comes by the school to pick up Theo and they walk together. Tim takes Nik up on the offer to help with developing photos. There’s one shot he sneaky took of Sophia laughing that ends up framed by the old woman herself. Sophia expands his duties and now he also helps her gather some wild flowers from the forest that stretches downhill behind the cottage. Kiki mentions once that her uncle is about to throw away one of his favorite motorcycles, because it doesn’t work and he can’t figure out what’s wrong with it. Tim volunteers to help and spends half a day in the man’s workshop and finds the issue. Soon the rumor spreads through the village that he can fix anything, and Tim finds himself visiting the workshop more and more, fixing different electronic devises, noticing way to late that he also kinda obtains a new job. He keeps busy. It’s a good distraction from a gaping hole inside him that all of Sophia’s herbal teas and extra duties are not able to fill. So he decides to do what he does best and buries himself in the work.

Money’s also a nice addition to the jobs. Well, not nice, but more like dead-serious-necessary. As someone who had always had money at his disposal, as a Drake or as a Wayne, Tim finds himself struggling without it. It’s not like Tim’s in danger of starving, because he hopes Sophia would still feed him, but he can’t live off her kindness alone. So he keeps his savings neatly organized and makes sure to give a part to Sophia. Also, he is finally able to bring loukoumades from the local bakery to the picnic Nikos organizes in the backyard if the cafe. They have just watched a movie, the one others said he _had_ to see because it’s Greek classic, when Tim looks up at the sky and understands that soon he’ll have to run to the temple.

“Guys, it’s almost sunset, I have to go.”

“Oh, why?” Nik asks absentmindedly.

“Because I’ll turn into a pumpkin if I won’t.”

Nikos, Kiki and Nik all nod solemnly. Tim stares.

“Guys, I’m joking.”

“Well how could we know that it’s not true,” Nikos snorts.

“What? How can that even be true?”

“Because you’re.. you know.”

They share knowing looks.

“I know what?”

“Sophia’s _nephew_.”

There’s some message Tim is clearly _not_ getting.

“Okay so what.”

“And Sophia's... you know.”

Tim thinks he has never been so confused before in his life.

“Jesus just say it,” Kiki explodes, “she's a _witch,_ okay? The whole village knows and at least once everyone goes to her for ‘advice’, but everyone likes to pretend like it’s a secret.”

Tim is about to start lecturing them on believing in silly prejudice, but then a lone swallow catches his gaze. It sits on the branch nearby and seems familiar. He thinks he remembers a bird like that, from that horrible, terrible moment at the cliffs. Tim also remembers Sophia’s swift arrival. And her herbs all around the house, the wild pansies he was told to gather only during the specific hour of specific day in the southern part of the forest, the sudden appearance of the camera he was sure wasn’t there before. He’s also almost never seen Sophia do any housework, and why do all these people come to visit her and whisper behind the closed doors?

It all clicks. Sophia is a witch. And he is a goddamned idiot.

The swallow practically snickers at him. Tim abruptly stands up.

“I gotta go.”

“Hey Elliot please, we didn’t mean to offend you!”

“No, it’s just, sunset, I gotta go.”

Tim sprints to the cottage and he’s happy that he started training again or he would have been out of breath. Sophia’s in the kitchen. A pie is being made – the ingredients are being stirred together and a crust is being lined with the foil. All of this is happening without Sophia’s obvious involvement, because the old woman just sits by the window, writing something on a piece of old yellowish paper.

“So it’s true, you’re a witch and you lied to me about it!”

Sophia looks up at him, her gaze intense. Tim thinks again about what he’s just said.

“Oh god no, you didn’t even hide it and I was being an oblivious idiot. I’m sorry for yelling.”

There’s something akin to amazement in the furrow of Sophia brows, but then she smiles slyly.

“All the people in the village treat you like local _royalty_. Wait, is this the reason why they are so polite to me?”

Sophia cocks her head, sly smile still on her lips.

“Maybe they think my nephew is like me.”

“They think I’m a witch?!”

Sophia hums, still smiling.

“But I’m not!”

“What you are – is a priest. And you may fail your duty – sun is almost down.”

“Can’t you magic me up the mountain?”

“Magic can’t solve all,” Sophia says, while soup on the counter is stirring itself. “Now, run.”

 

***

It takes Tim time to adjust to the thought of living in a house full of magic. When he does, he notices just how much of it is in the house and so many things suddenly make sense. He wants to kick himself for not realizing it sooner. Tim thinks he maybe should hate magic now, after everything, but it’s also like hating fire for actions of an arsonist, so he doesn’t.

He looks at the way people in the village bend to Sophia’s will and can’t help but think – was this why Nikos and the others decided to befriend him? Did they want to get closer to someone they believed was a witch’s apprentice of some sorts?

Tim avoids them, firstly just denying invitations, but then more and more actively dodging any chances to talk. Once even having to climb out of the window when he sees Nikos and Kiki meeting Theo near the school. The summer holidays in school on the island are practically non-existent - the school just transforms into day camp. Avoiding people in rural areas was not exactly what his Batman training was meant for, but he makes it work anyway.

He might have avoided them for longer but one evening, when he gets back from the temple, Sophia tells him they have been invited to a wedding in the village. He was spacing out more lately, so he didn’t even notice it, but, apparently, the whole village not only knows, but also will show up. Tim pleads, argues and bargains, but to no avail – Sophia is not letting him stay at home. She threatens to wrestle him in a suit if Tim won’t put it on himself. So he does put it on, and Sophia hums her approval as he drags himself back to the living room. The old woman puts a red camellia flower in the small pocket of his jacket, where Alfred would usually stick a cloth square. Tim tries not to think about galas and the contrast of having hand-me-down suit instead of his favorite Brioni helps a little, but also not at all. Sophia sticks a matching camellia to her blouse and Tim decides not to ask where she got it in the middle of summer.

There’s a big tent on the outskirts of the village. People are laughing and screaming and it seems like the celebration has already started. Sophia, and Tim together with her, are set near the bride and the groom. This helps Tim successfully avoid talking to Kiki, Nikos and Nik, who all sit with their families. At least for the part of the night, but then dancing starts and people migrate from table to table. To avoid talking to people Tim grabs a wine glass and then it hits him. He’s 18 now. His birthday’s passed and he didn’t even notice. He’s legally allowed to drink here. To deal with this sudden knowledge, Tim takes a sip of wine. It tastes sweet and he can barely feel any alcohol in it so he grabs another glass. And then another, and then he ends up leaning on one of the trees that’s outlining the clearing where people are partying. This is the moment when Tim’s luck runs out and it’s already too late when he sees Nikos coming his way. The guy leans on the tree beside him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“This is a nice wedding.”

“Yeah.”

“And. And a nice night,” Nikos is obviously desperate for any topic. He sneaks glances at Tim, but he’s too tired and maybe too tipsy to help. “You look really good in your suit.”

“Thanks. You too.”

The lapse into uncomfortable silence and Nikos turns, so Tim thinks that maybe he is going to leave. But then Nikos is pressing Tim into the tree and kissing him. At first, Tim is so shocked he freezes. Then he carefully but firmly pushes Nikos away.

“Why did you do that?”

“You looked sad.”

“Okay but why did you kiss me?!”

Nikos looks at him, suddenly horrified.

“I thought you're gay!”

“I'm not!”

It’s getting lighter outside – it’s almost sunrise. So maybe Tim can persuade himself that he’s not looking for excuses when he says that he has to go and bolts.

 

He reaches Orpheus’ temple in record time, but his suit is ragged because he thought it was a great idea to take a shortcut through the forest. He’s still holding a wine glass, but it’s empty. Tim is not sure if it’s because he drank it or if it just spilled on the ground somewhere. The way Orpheus’ brows shoot up, taking place of his usual melancholic expression is a testimony to how weird Tim must look.

Tim’s never been drunk before, and he’s in that awkward stage between drunk and sober that he’s just getting accustomed to but doesn’t like already. He still goes through almost mechanical now motions to open the windows and move Orpheus to face the sun. Only after he finishes this does Tim allow himself to slide down the wall and curl in on himself, hiding his face in his arms. Soon he can hear Orpheus’s song, soft and sweet, covering him like molasses and he can finally lose himself in it. It’s a different song today, full of burning, painful happiness and sweetness.

So Tim starts thinking about Kon. About his beautiful smiles and strong hands that could be so gentle. About understanding. About the absolute trust Tim would put into his clone boy at any given moment, in a way he has never trusted anyone else.

“Lord Orpheus,” he asks. “What is the song about?”

The song stops.

“It’s about my Eurydice,” Orpheus answers. “And eternal love.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Oh shit!

There is a simple connection between him listening to a magical love song and thinking about Conner, but his brain doesn’t want to make it. It wants to maybe scream for a thousand years because how could he not notice? That he’s been? In love? With his best friend for years? If constantly seeking Kon’s company didn’t hint at it what’s about Tim fucking trying to clone Kon when he was dead because obviously Tim just couldn’t deal with living without him?

Now, when he thinks of it, he’s kinda always found men pretty attractive, but usually chalked it up to his fascination with photography and arts. It suddenly makes so much sense.

And maybe having a self-discovery while not that drunk anymore but not sober yet on the floor in front of a severed head was not how he imagined his morning but here he is.

“Timothy? Are you alright?”

This is not the best moment for Orpheus to be more lucid than usual and it’s it just Tim’s luck? Surprisingly for himself, Tim answers:

“I’m sorry there was a wedding and then a guy I know came up to me and _kissed me_ and he said that he thought I’m gay and oh god maybe I am?”

Orpheus doesn’t say anything. Tim curls in on himself even more.

“What is ‘gay’?”

Oh, yes, Orpheus isn’t really supposed to know the modern terms.

“Um, it’s like when men like other men? Like, romantically?”

Tim feels like putting Riddler out of business and surrounding himself with question marks because _what_?

“Are you interested in the man that kissed you?”

“No!” Tim says forcefully, because even if his track record with _friends_ has just been reveled to be at least a bit wrong, he was sure he only thought of him as one.

“Why do you think you are ‘gay’?”

“There’s someone else. From. From home.”

Kon used to brag about his romantic adventures when he was younger, but then it subsided, so Tim’s not sure if he heard anything about boys. Figuring out if Kon likes men is a can of worms for another day, because right now Tim’s brain is about to go into overdrive.

“Is it a bad thing, that you may be so?”

“No, it’s just. I. I don’t know. I didn’t know about it before, I guess I was too busy to even have time for thinking. I. But I dated girls! Was that not real? I liked them. I thought I did, but what if I lied to myself? Did I lie to _them_?”

And that’s a horrifying thought in itself, because it would be so not fair to both Ariana and Steph and what does it mean if he actually didn’t, can he even feel love or is there something irrevocably broken in him?

“Can’t you like both?”

“Oh.”

Okay, that makes more sense and helps Tim’s stomach settle a bit. Right before he finally comprehends that he has been talking to Orpheus about extremely personal topics and he looks like hell and probably smells like wine and if this is not overstepping boundaries than what is it.

“Lord Orpheus, I’m so sorry, I mustn’t burden you with all of this.”

“It is alright. Hearing about deeds in the outside world is refreshing. Last time anything happened was over two hundred years ago.”

“Huh?” that successfully takes Tim’s mind off his thoughts. “I thought you’ve been here for over a thousand years?”

“Oh, I have. I was taken from here, once. I can tell you – after your sharing with me, it’s only fair.”

Tim listens in fascination about how Orpheus was stolen from the temple by lunatics seeking immortality and how lady Joan Constantine returned him after 30 years in captivity. Tim’s sure she and Constantine must be related. He wonders if the man knows about her and the grave in the yard of the temple. But it’s also a horrifying thought, because, if you think about it, Orpheus is not safe here. And what can Tim do, move to the temple? How would that even help, he’s just one person. There’s so many ways to infiltrate the place and he mentally lists all of them on his way back to the cottage. He starts ranting to Sophia as soon as he enters the house.

“What if someone who’s completely nuts about immortality found out about this. Like, I don’t know, Ra's al Ghul? Oh god that would have been terrifying. And who says he won’t find out? Maybe I should install at least a perimeter alarm - oh shit it’s just dumb luck that no one found this place earlier, and knowing how lucky I usually am there’s a huge chance it all goes to hell very soon!”

Sophia watches Tim pace, amused.

“My husband was a stupid man,” despite her wry smile earlier, she sounds bitter. “He believed that his guarding kept it safe, that guns can keep it safe. And no alarms work there, electricity don’t agree with magic.”

“Could you put a spell to make a magic alarm, then? Or a shield?”

Sophia stares at him for a long moment.

“What?” Tim asks defensively.

“No one ask me to before.”

“Why not? Did your husband and Dream not know you’re a witch?”

“They know. Just don’t think my opinion matters.”

“Oh,” Tim blinks. “Well, then they’re wrong.”

Sophia smiles at him the same wry smile as before, but her gaze softens.

“I think about it and tell you.”

“Good. And now excuse me I think I’ve just found out that I like both girls and guys and it’s starting to hit me hard and I would rather go panic in my room thanks bye.”

Tim runs before he can see Sophia’s reaction and barricades himself in his room. He has a lot to think about.

***

The next day he gathers his courage and goes to the cafe in the central square. Kiki and Nik sit at the table that Tim has began to associate with them. Nikos is polishing the counter. They all lift their gazes towards Tim and he sees they are about to ask him something, but he beats them to it:

“I’m sorry I avoided you, but. Look. Why are you friends with me? Is it because I’m Sophia’s nephew?”

Nikos and Kiki appear scandalized, shouting in turn:

“What?”

“No!”

“Because you’re one of us,” Nik says calmly.

“I mean, we thought,” Nikos adds.

He gives Tim an awkward look and the other two seem lost. Oh, so Nikos didn’t tell them what happened at the wedding.

“I’m not gay,” Tim says.

“Oh,” Kiki loses her smile and Tim’s sure she is about to start apologizing.

“No, I’m not finished,” Tim sucks in air nervously. There’s a lump in his throat that makes it hard to swallow. Gosh why is this so hard to say. “I’m bi. Bisexual.”

“Were you dating someone back at home?” Nik asks, smiling softly. “Is there a secret boyfriend\girlfriend we should know about?”

Tim smiles at him for changing the topic. Gosh, Nik’s amazing, he’s Tim’s favorite person now.

“No, not at the moment. But, I, um. There was someone special, but I’m not sure if I’m anything to him.”

That makes pain swirl in his gut, because there’s a big chance Kon wasn’t interested and even a bigger one that Tim will never get a chance to know for sure.

A bitter silence settles in the room. Up until the moment when Kiki cracks her knuckles.

“So, you are all _by yourself_.”

She stresses the last words and wiggles her eyebrows. It takes Tim a few seconds to understand that she meant _bi_. Tim groans and practically falls into the chair, while both Nik and Nikos laugh mercilessly.

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” Nikos says, still grinning.

“Don’t worry, Elliot,” Kiki says, scooting closer to him. “I can stay here BI your side.”

Tim groans more. Nik is laughing at him and is really close to losing his ‘favorite person’ status. Nikos comes back with glasses for tea, which prompts Kiki’s grin to widen.

“Wait what if this is not your tea because your tea is bisexualiTEA,” she says, pointing finger guns at him.

“Oh my god Kiki why are you like this,” Tim hides his face in his hands.

“Wait wait wait I got more! Here,” Kiki raises her hand, open palm towards him. “BI five!”

Nikos snorts his tea through his nose, which prompts all of them to lose it. Nik slumps down to the floor, laughing, Kiki throws her head back, practically howling. Tim settles on faceplanting on the table.

“Oh my god I hate all of you,” he says, fighting for breath.

It takes them minutes to calm down and Tim’s chest and stomach are hurting, but it must be the first time in months he laughed like this, so it’s totally worth it. When he lifts his face, the others are looking at him with wide smiles.

“So, are we good?” Nikos asks, and Tim knows it’s not only about him avoiding them.

“We’re good,” he says, not lying for one bit.

***

Tim decides to make a change about the way he treats Orpheus and brings him some of the photos he took. He starts cautiously telling him about the village, and the way the immortal’s face lights up tells him it must be a successful strategy. After all, Tim can always check one of Gotham’s web-sites for news when he’s feeling anxious, but what can Orpheus do to occupy himself?

Tim’s still thinking about how horrible it must be, to be stranded in some sort of never-ending limbo, not being able to move or do anything. At least he has jobs and friends and Sophia. Who hasn’t treated him any differently since his outburst yesterday, but what if she just didn’t understand what he meant? Still dealing with grasping his newly discovered sexuality, Tim finds her lack of reaction distressing.

“So,” he starts, when they are having dinner. “I told you yesterday I might like boys, just like I like girls.”

“Yes.”

“And you. Didn’t say anything?”

“I need to say anything?” Sophia frowns.

“You’re okay with me like this?”

“Who cares who you love," Sophia shrugs. "Unless you harm someone because of that, of course.”

“Of course,” Tim says and exhales loudly.

“As a witch, I tell you, boy – do not let anyone tell you who you are. Be you.”

“It turns out, I may have not known who I am,” Tim sighs.

“Then it is good time to start finding out.”

They lapse into thoughtful silence. Tim breaks it by asking:

“Have you thought about the spell?”

Sophia shrugs.

“I can do it now if you want.”

“Of course! I’ve been going crazy thinking about Orpheus all alone there! Can we go now?”

Sophia laughs at his enthusiasm.

“If you carry the things I tell you to.”

They end up gathering a few old grimoires, candles, a couple of vials that Tim struggles to hold. When they climb up the stairs to the temple, Sophia tells him to toss the heavy books to the side and picks up an absolutely ordinary stick instead. Tim sees it as her attempt to laugh at his prejudice about magic and doesn’t find it _that_ funny.

He steps aside when Sophia starts drawing a circle around the temple grounds, but stays inside it when she tells him to. Then the old woman fills the ground with sigils Tim doesn’t recognize and a few runes he does. Sophia moves to stand in the middle, making sure Tim stays close to her. She says there is no reason to wake Orpheus. Tim hopes they won’t disturb him. When she starts chanting in a language Tim doesn’t know, the symbols on the ground start to light up. It’s pretty, and Tim wishes he had his camera with him, but he’s not sure if it would be able to capture the blue flames coming up form the sigils. The liquid fire ends up forming four spheres around them. The spheres float in the air, but then one of them, to Tim’s right, starts falling. Tim reaches out absentmindedly, holding it in place. Sophia’s chanting wavers but doesn’t stop, so he guesses he’s saddled with holding it now. It feels hot and cold at the same time, but doesn’t burn his fingers. There’s some kind of energy coursing through his body now and he hopes it’s supposed to be like this. Before he can question it, Sophia finishes the ritual and the lights disappear. Sophia’s shoulders slump down and she turns to look at Tim with scrutiny.

“You feel okay?” she asks cautiously.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“You took piece of magic energy in your hand. It can’t be just done.”

“What do you mean it can't be done? I did it just now.”

“Amazing, impossible things people can do, when they not know it’s impossible, eh?”

When Tim opens and closes his mouth like a fish freshly pulled out of water, Sophia laughs.

“Anyone in the world can do magic – find books, draw pictures, say words, done. But hold it in your palm? Takes very big mind.”

Tim’s still too shocked to respond, because did he just participate in a ritual more actively then he previously thought?

“I can teach you if you want.”

If magic is like energy, then doing magic can be seen like doing science, right? Tim has been antsy without anything to occupy his mind with, and maybe getting to know this impossible science from the inside can help him help, well, _himself_.

So he says, “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title - Caitlyn Siehl [poem ](https://alonesomes.tumblr.com/post/113772169561/it-ends-or-it-doesnt-thats-what-you-say)
> 
> God this took me forever to write, but I hope it's worth it. And I fixed the tags, finally.
> 
> I am both exited and scared about your reaction to my Sophia and other OC children, so put your thoughts about them in the comments!
> 
> Also, the 'herbal tea' things Sophia is giving Tim are the magical equivalent of antidepressants.


	6. Don't forget the tired and the restless warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian’s patrol was uneventful and, therefore, absolutely dull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry everyone who thought it's a proper chapter, but it's not
> 
> this part is important, but it's mood disagrees with the previous chapter and happens at least half a year before the next, so I decided to give it it's own space
> 
>  _flashback chapter~_  
>  events happen a year before Kon meets 'Elliot' __

***

Damian’s patrol was uneventful and, therefore, absolutely dull. According to Batman’s orders, Robin was to return home early. Damian doesn’t see why his skills, no less valuable then other vigilantes’ operating in Gotham, were to be dismissed because of something so trivial as a school night. It is both infuriating and humiliating, but there’s not much Damian can do about it.

  
He is burning off the excessive energy by running over the rooftops instead of using any means of transportation, when suddenly he hears a scream. It’s a nice neighborhood with one of the lowest crime rates in the city, so he immediately turns around to follow the sound to it’s source and finds a … small child on the sidewalk. The minor seems to be left without supervision, all alone late at night. And, also, screaming for Robin.

  
So he gets down swiftly and approaches the child. It seems to be a girl that only reaches Damian’s waist. The child’s hair is pulled up in a puffy bun. She was obviously running – a portion of dark thick curls escaped the ribbon of a very agreeable green shade. She’s wearing pajamas. There’s a crumpled piece of paper in her hand, and the child very seriously holds it out for him to take. On it, a crudely drawn stick-figure is wearing red and black uniform and long black cape. In the lower right corner the words “Red Robin” are scribbled in a childish, messy handwriting. Damian stares. Is this… a costume re-design suggestion for him? Why add ‘red’ to his name?

  
“Can you give this to Red Robin? I didn’t see him yesterday and many days before that” the child says. “Maybe he’s sick because of the bad guys? I made the picture with love, it’ll make it better! Please?”

  
Damian stares at the picture, then at the girl.

  
“I’m afraid I do not know who that is.”

  
The child scoffs and it’s a bizarre expression on such a young face.

  
“But you gotta know who’s Red Robin! He’s one of yours!”

  
She stomps her feet for better effect and Robin finds himself in a situation where he is about to start arguing with an infant. He is saved, however, by an appearance of a figure running towards them. Damian catalogs the details - a black female, around 30-35 years old. She’s not obviously dressed for combat - she is wearing a blue silk nightgown and is running as fast as slippers allow her. The outline of her face suggests blood relation to the child, so Damian assumes it’s the girl’s mother.

  
“Nichelle, dear god, you will give me a heart attack one of this days! Now young lady explain yourself or,” the woman trails off, finally noticing Robin.

  
Damian holds out the piece of paper.

“She wished to give me this.”

“Oh Jesus, that again. I’m so sorry! We think it’s her imaginary friend. I don’t think he actually exists? And he's nowhere in newspapers I mean there's so many of you bat-people I had to check.”

  
“We do not have an operative with that name,” Robin nods.

  
“Who would take a name like that, right?”

  
The woman snorts, but the child is having none of that.

  
“Mom that’s mean!”

  
“Running out of the house in the middle of the night is what’s mean to your mother! Now let’s go home, young lady, and so you just know - you are very grounded!”

  
Damian’s patrol finishes with a small girl screaming at the top of her lungs about Red Robin. The badly drawn portrait of whom is still in his hand.

  
Damian frowns, but hides the drawing in one of his belt’s compartments.

  
He’s not sure why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title from 'Come and Gone' by Family of Things - a song that I now so strongly associate with writing this fic that I can't listen to it without my mind immediately jumping to the story
> 
> I hope to be done with the next chapter by the end of the week, buy I've been second-guessing my writing a lot lately, so I slowed down a bit


	7. if you’re the devil, i’d sell my soul to spend time with you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon continues to visit the house on a cliff and it takes an unexpected turn.

First thing Kon registers upon arriving is this — there’s a weird sound in the house. It sounds like hooves clicking on the floor and for some reason he thinks about Robin and his Batcow. But Elliot’s not a Robin, and why would he have a cow in the house? Kon extends his superhearing and follows the small sound to a frantic heartbeat in the living room.

There’s a bundle of blankets on the couch. When Kon comes closer to take a better look, it moves. Kon expects Cookie to stare at him judgmentally with her yellow eyes, but a pair of dark brown ones paired with furrowed eyebrows does instead. There’s a kid on Elliot’s couch, cocooned in blankets from head to toe, with only a small opening to let his nose, eyes and a part of forehead be seen. The kid’s cheeks and nose are covered in freckles. The kid scoffs at him and sinks further into the blankets. Before Kon has a chance to attempt a conversation, Elliot strolls in, holding a glass with some muddy-brown liquid in it. Conner pulls a paper Starbucks cup he’s holding closer to his chest self-consciously.

“Oh,” Elliot says, not looking thrilled at seeing Conner hover over a small child on his couch. “Hi, Superboy.”

“I brought you coffee?” he doesn’t know why it sounds like a question.

Elliot glances at the kid, then at Conner again. He puts the glass down on the small coffee table and then lifts the kid, together with all of the blankets.

“Give me a minute to get him settled,” he says to Kon.

Elliot goes upstairs, cradling the child in his arms. He murmurs something soothing to him, his voice nice and soft. The last thing Kon sees before Elliot disappears is him pressing a kiss to the kid’s forehead. That makes Kon’s heart seize in a weird way, so he turns away and shuffles his feet nervously. For nothing better to do, Kon inches closer to the coffee table and sniffs at the glass there. He draws back as soon as the heavy herbal smell hits his nostrils – the cup smells like those pills Pa takes for his heart.

To distract himself with something, Conner looks around the room. He finds a stack of photos laying on top of one of cabinets and shuffles through them. They’re beautiful shots of some trees and a few buildings in between. Then a shot of a girl comes next and Kon stops shuffling abruptly. The girl’s hair is blonde with pink tips, her mouth painted dark-red, a leather jacket with pins and golden spikes on it draped over her knees. Her mouth is open in a laugh, head thrown back. She’s objectively cute, but Kon’s brain does not want to be objective, all it wants is to know who the _fuck_ this punk wannabe is. Kon’s got a leather jacket too, somewhere at home as a part of his old uniform, but he doesn’t see Elliot having pictures of _him_ in it. Before Kon has a chance to figure out why he’s so angry, Elliot comes back, sprinting down the stairs.

“Sorry to make you wait!” Elliot comes closer and nods at the cup in Kon’s hands. “Is that for me?”

Conner nods and extends his hand with the coffee cup. Their fingers brush and it feels like electric shock going through skin. While Elliot drinks his latte macchiato, Kon clears his throat and tries to sound as casual as possible.

“Girls like a guy who’s good with kids.”

Elliot snorts and rolls his eyes at that.

“Yes, this is exactly why I brought an injured child into my house, to woo ladies.”

“Oh! I, um. Is he okay? What happened?”

“There was an accident in the forest. He’s gonna be fine. But that means I can’t hung out today, I want to stay around and make sure he’s not scared.”

“Oh,” Kon tries not to sound as upset as he feels. “I’ll go, then.”

“Superboy, wait! I, um. If you’re not busy, come by tomorrow? We could go to the beach? If you want to.”

Elliot looks at him with earnest eyes and that makes something in the pit of Conner’s stomach feel almost feverish and also grin like a fool.

“You can call me Kon, you know that? I’m sorry I freaked out last time. That’s actually why I came today, to say sorry.”

“Okay, Kon,” Elliot smiles.

“And of course I’ll come by tomorrow. It’s a date, then!”

Conner laughs and flies out of the house before he has a chance to see Elliot’s reaction.

 

***

 

The next day, they go to the beach. Kon brings an apple pie Ma made and some ice tea. Elliot brings towels and an obscene beach umbrella. He stays under it and doesn’t even take his shirt off when Kon strips to his boxers and dives into the unbelievably transparent and warm water. No amount of coaxing from Kon is enough to persuade Elliot to join him. It turns out that it’s because Elliot is a complete human disaster who went out to help with a fishing boat’s engine in the middle of a hot morning a few days ago and got sunburns all over his shoulders and back for his trouble. Kon almost chokes on sea water laughing and gets hit with a stone, square on his forehead.

“Ha!” Elliot shouts out in triumph, not even pretending to be sorry. “You’re not fast enough to evade my attacks, Boy of Steel!”

“Not fucking fair, dude, you caught me off-guard! I’ll let you know I am faster than the Flash!”

Elliot’s eyes glimmer mischievously.

“Mmm is that supposed to be a good thing? ”

His tone is so _suggestive_ that for a long moment all Conner can focus on is his long eyelashes and the sly upturned curve of his mouth. He’s not sure how to deal with it, so he sinks down into the water, gathers some of it with his TTK and delivers a spectacular wave of salt water, splashing all over Elliot and his dumb shirt. Elliot yelps indignantly and springs to his feet.

“Oh, this is war! ”

Kon has to stop laughing then, because his head is being showed under the water as soon as Elliot gets to him. They spend a good half an hour dunking each other under the waves and laughing. The wet shirt is now sticking to Elliot’s body and up close Kon can see that the guy definitely has some abs, so Conner counts this as a win.

Elliot is the first to leave the water, complaining about the heat and the shirt sticking uncomfortably to his sun-burnt back. He hides under the umbrella but stretches his legs and tilts his face up, to look at the sky. He closes his eyes soon, a lazy smile on his lips. Kon sits beside him, happily exposing himself to the sun and takes his time to stare at the guy’s legs discreetly, which brings him to the unexpected conclusion that Elliot’s legs would look nice in tight green leggings. Weirded out by the thought, Kon shifts his gaze. There’s a nice bracelet with honey colored stones on Elliot’s wrist, so Conner tries to count the spots inside the stones instead. He thinks it’s great to see Elliot finally enjoying the day and not running himself ragged with work. Oh, his work!

“Don’t you usually have like 2 jobs at noon? ”

Elliot, his eyes still closed, hums softly.

“I took a day off, so you’re stuck with me ‘till dawn .”

This makes Kon flood with irrational glee, and he’s not sure how to deal with it, so he ends up just grunting noncommittaly in reply .

They spend the rest of the day together, eating and talking and laughing. Kon really doesn’t want to leave, but it’s sunset soon, so Elliot apologies for not being able to get out of that job and having to run off. Conner, in return, assures him that it’s okay and even volunteers to take the remaining things back to the house. There he cleans the plates and hangs the towels, taking his time to breathe in the smell of herbs and dusty books that have become so _Elliot_ to him.

And if he stays longer than strictly necessary – well, no one except him and maybe the cat will know.

 

***

 

There’s a test Conner might have failed at school – which he shouldn’t even be in, because come on, so what that he was kinda dead and missed a year, it’s not like he couldn’t have passed the exams in some distance-learning way. But Ma insists he needs some normal childhood, so he goes to school. It seems really important to her and that’s why Kon can’t face Ma right now. Before he knows it, he find himself near the house on the cliff, half a world away from Smallville. It’s already late night here, but there’s a light in the window and it feels like hope.

Kon barges into the house and doesn’t even bother to knock. He finds Elliot in the kitchen, hunched over a big black book. It’s cover looks like leather and smells like something old. The electricity must be down again, as happens a lot here. Instead of it, candles light the room, casting funny shadows all over the place. When Conner plops down on the chair across Elliot, the guy gives him an acknowledging hum and turns the page. While it’s a good feeling – Kon not only feels welcome here, but more like he _belongs_ – he also gets bored really quickly, so he leans in closer, to peek at the pages. They have fancy letters and a few small symbolic pictures and Conner can’t understand a word.

“Watcha reading?”

“A book,” Elliot answers flatly.

It’s only because Kon knows him so well – and when exactly did that happen? - that he feels the smile in Elliot’s voice. Okay, the guy can be as cryptic as he likes, who even wants to know about his dumb book.

“Is that in Greek?”

“No, it’s in Old Church Slavonic.”

Conner hums at that and tries to sit still. It lasts for a minute, and soon he starts tapping his fingers on the table. Then a candle that smells like cinnamon draws his attention, so he brings it closer and starts playing with the flame, barely touching it with his fingers and drawing away quickly. When his fingers are covered with black smudges, Elliot sighs his favorite all-suffering sigh and closes the book.

“Conner, why are you here?”

And it would have sounded rude from anyone else, except Superboy knows for sure there’s a concerned ‘what happened’ hidden in the question. So he groans gravely and hides his face in his hands.

“I think I failed another test. I’m gonna die.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Elliot laughs. “Why’d you think so? I know you’re smart enough to pass all those tests.”

Elliot believing in him so much, without doubt, warms Kon more than Ma’s hot chocolate. And remembering about Ma makes him feel sour.

“It’s stupid, you wouldn’t wanna listen.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid,” Elliot says softly. “Let me put the kettle on and you can tell me all about it.”

Elliot moves to the portable gas stove he keeps in case of emergencies. Kon watches as he adds some petals and crumbled leaves into the old tattered kettle. Then Elliot urges him to take blankets from the couch and go outside. Kon doesn’t really get cold, but he wraps a blanket around himself for comfort. Elliot drags a chair closer to sit on the same side of the table as him. He curls in it and looks at Kon expectantly. So he starts talking – about the shitty mediocre supervillain attack last week, the extra training Batman assigned for the team and how Kon just plain forgot about the test. Elliot only leaves for a minute, to bring two cups of the herbal brew from the kitchen and Cookie the cat leaps onto Kon’s lap while they wait. And then Conner talks about Smallvile with the school and the farm and the city with the Team and that maybe he feels like he doesn’t belong in either, and it’s like all of his fears and regrets spilling. They talk about responsibility, the favorite Zesti flavor, the vastness of space and what’s the best comfort movie to watch after a nightmare.

Only when Elliot’s head suddenly snaps towards the horizon does Kon understand that they spend the whole night talking, and _holy shit_ it’s almost sunrise. Conner shots out of the chair, still managing somehow to carefully put the sleepy cat on the table. With the time difference, it means it’s really late in Smalville and Ma must be worried sick and also he made this guy he had known only for a few months stay up all night and listen to his pathetic bitching. He starts apologizing and Elliot keeps saying that it’s okay, he’s so used to pulling all-nighters, he would have stayed up with the book anyway. Kon doesn’t exactly believe him, but he does believe his earnest smile when Elliot says:

“You can talk to me any time – I’ll be here for you.”

 

_***_

Krypto accompanies him for this visit, but runs off as soon as they land, probably to look for Cookie. Kon makes his way to the house, having to stop near one of the flowerpots to pick up the key to the main door. There’s a mess of splinters, leaves, twine, beads and feathers on the kitchen table. There’s also a half-done circle in the middle, made of entangled branches that Kon thinks must be willow. There’s entangled twine woven into in and it vaguely looks like spiderweb. Conner shrugs at it all and goes to the fridge.

It doesn’t take long for Elliot to come back – in less then 15 minutes and Kon being through half a sandwich, he comes through the door, a big basket full of some long, leaf-less branches in his arms. There’s a scratch across his cheek and yellowish-green hue on his hands, his hair disheveled.

“Where the hell were you?” Kon gawks at him.

“In the forest,” Elliot huffs and tries to smooth down his hair, which only makes it stick out into more directions. A few leaves and twigs fall out off it.

“You had a fight with trees or something?”

“Not funny.”

“It’s not gonna be funny if you got some bugs now living in your hair. Geeze, don’t look at me like that! Just take a sit, here, and lemme help!”

Kon guides Elliot to a chair and makes him sit in it. Only when his fingers reach Elliot's dark locks does he realize that _he’s gonna be touching his hair and probs his skin too and god that’s so close to his face and his lips and how is he supposed to cope with it._

It’s good he’s a superhero and knows how to deal with stressful situations. Which means he panics on the inside and doesn’t let his hands shake. Also, the fact that Elliot is facing a wall and not him helps a lot. To fill in the silence and put his mind off the fact that Elliot’s hair is so soft Kon asks:

“Are you making some kind of a dreamcather? You suddenly into arts and crafts, gonna sell it on Etsy?”

Kon feels his heart pounding in his ears and there’s really no leaves left but he’s a nice guy, right, so he’ll just make sure? He sinks his fingers into Elliot’s hair and has half a thought to pull away when the guy freezes for a moment. But then he practically melts into the touch, his shoulders relaxing. Kon tries to pretend like flashes of something hot don’t suddenly shoot through his body at that.

“ ’S not like that, I just had an Ojibwe teacher once and she showed me how to make one so I tried to for one kid and now like half a village wants it,” Elliot trails off, exhaling heavily.

Kon pulls away at that because popping a boner at touching someone’s hair will be kinda embarrassing. Meanwhile unsuspecting Elliot gets up and stretches. Because he needs to do something with his hands, Kon reaches out towards one of the unfinished willow hoops.

“No don’t touch that!”

“But I can help?”

Elliot shakes his head.

“This is something I have to do on my own. I’m not sure what it’ll be if we make it together.”

Conner shrugs and moves to sit at the opposite part of the table, pointedly not touching it. Elliot chuckles at him and stands by the table, starting to make new hoops out of the willow branches he brought with him. Then something from what Elliot said earlier makes Kon ask:

“Why’d half a village want you to make them dreamcathers?”

Elliot freezes. There’s almost a panicky look on his face, but a more thoughtful, calculated one takes it’s place in mere seconds. Elliot takes his time, but says in the end in a guarded voice:

“Maybe they think I’m a witch.”

Conner laughs at that.

“Man, they serious? Why is that, because you live in a house on a cliff and there’s a forest nearby?”

Elliot looks at him for a long moment and it feels like his gaze can reach down to Kon’s soul when he says:

“Maybe because I am.”

Kon blinks at him, confused, and doesn’t think before he says:

“But ‘witch’ is for girls?’”

Elliot snorts.

“It’s a craft, not a gender.”

“I’m sorry it's just... Are you serious?”

Elliot looks at him, absolutely serious.

“Yes, I am.”

“I. It’s just. A lot to process.”

Kon tries to gather his thoughts while Elliot shuffles around the table, picking some branches and rearranging beads and feathers in a small box. Conner’s not sure what to think about this, it is too much.

“So,” he says eventually. Elliot looks up at him hastily, but his expression is unreadable. “You can use magic.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Elliot looks away and shrugs.

“It never came up.”

“Dude, that’s a lame excuse and you know it.”

Elliot’s face suddenly looks pained. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“It’s just. A lot of superheroes _hate_ magic, don’t they?”

“Hate is a strong word,” Kon says and thinks he’s heard this excuse before. “But we do have our own magicians in the League!”

That sounds lame to his own ears because he really can name a few people who can start an ‘I hate magic’ club and the honorary president will probs be Batman. Hell, he’s sure he himself might have said something like this, because Superboy did encounter magic-connected problems. Not to mention the fact that it can actually counter his Super part and really harm him. Even Superman’s vulnerable to magic.

“I just didn’t want you to hate me,” Elliot says and he’s actively avoiding looking at Kon and maybe Superboy himself has never contemplated his own stand on the subject of magic, but there’s one thing he is absolutely sure about.

 _“_ I could never hate you!” Kon says, and his voice comes out in such raw and open way it makes him flush.

Elliot finally looks at him and there’s something akin to hope in his eyes.

“It’s just….unexpected, that you kept it from me. You and your secrets, geeze, must you always...” Kon trails off, because he’s not sure what he even meant.

Elliot sits at the other end of the table, apparently giving up on pretending to sort through his dreamcather workshop.

“So, are we okay?” Elliot asks in that small voice that makes Kon feel like hating himself – because he is the one who caused it.

“Yeah, man, like I said, it’s just unexpected and all. Sorry that I freaked out,” after a pause Kon grins awkwardly. “Are you gonna show me a magic trick?”

Elliot laughs a short, barking laugh of his and Kon thinks it’s a magic thing in itself.

“Kon, I’m not a carnival magician.”

“Do you have a broom?”

“Yes, to sweep the floor.”

“But can you fly on it?”

Elliot looks at him just like Cookie does sometimes.

“Yes. If I throw myself off a cliff with it, I would probably fly for a few seconds.”

Kon laughs despite himself. He looks around and notices an open notebook on far corner of the table, near all of the soon-to-be dreamcatchers.

“Is that your magical grimoire?”

“That’s my notebook for _notes_!”

“Dude, you take notes on magic?”

“How do you suppose I keep track of my research?”

“Oh gosh, what are you - a magic nerd?”

Kon laughs while Elliot pouts, which looks absolutely adorable. After his laughing fit subdues, Conner speaks up again.

“Can you tell the future?”

Some emotion passes through Elliot’s eyes, but it’s gone so quick that Kon can’t be sure what it was.

“Sure, give me your hand,” Elliot says seriously.

Conner stretches out his hand, palm up, for Elliot to examine. The guy frowns, looking at his hand intently.

“Oh no!” he gasps. “It says here that destiny will bring retaliation for you asking stupid questions!”

Before Conner can react, Elliot smacks him on the head with his not-a-grimoire notebook and immediately dashes out of his chair.

“Oh no, it came true!” the bastard says from a safe distance and has the audacity to giggle.

It’s the time for Kon to glare back at him.

“You think you’re so goddamn funny,” he mutters and rubs his head where he was hit, just to make a point.

“Can I bribe you into not asking anymore questions today?”

“Mmmm watcha got?”

It turns out Elliot’s got a full fridge of delicious home cooked meals that some of the villagers brought as a tribute for the dreamcatchers. When they are having dinner, Elliot stirs the conversation away from the topic of magic and Conner lets him.

 

***

 

Soon after the first mention of Elliot being a witch, Conner does some thinking. He realizes that it makes absolutely no difference in the way he sees the guy. He still likes to mess with him occasionally, because seeing Elliot roll his eyes when he asks about where he hides his pointy hat is hilarious. Elliot remains cagey on the subject, but soon, seeing no different treatment from Kon, the guy starts to mention small things, like the mischievous spirits in the forest or that he’s waiting for a specific phase of the moon.

One day Conner finds Elliot in the living room, half of which is littered with books or various pages with what looks like graphs. The guy’s sporting the world’s worst bags under his eyes and overall looks like a total mess. Kon doesn’t dare step into the room, because the floor is littered with various things he doesn’t want to crush.

“Dude, whatcha doing?” he asks carefully.

Elliot looks up at him, his eyes bloodshot.

“I'm trying to learn Tarot but I don’t understand it because it makes no sense!” Elliot waves a few cards in Conner’s direction. There’s also much more of them scattered around the floor nearby. “Like this card means ‘waiting’ but it can also mean ‘surrender’ and what am I supposed to say here? Why there's no clear instruction?!”

“How long have you been doing this exactly?”

Elliot looks genuinely confused.

“I dunno. What day is it?”

“You mean you’ve been sitting here for over 24 hours?!”

Elliot looks him dead in the eye.

“Time is a human made-up concept.”

That line would have been more impressive if Elliot didn’t sway suddenly. Kon reaches a decision and steps on the damn books to get closer to the guy.

“Okay that’s enough, I’m dragging your sorry ass to bed,” he says and hoists Elliot onto his shoulder.

“No, you don’t understand,” Elliot slurs, not protesting Kon’s manhandling at all. “Those cards are evil and they’re out to get me. For the last hour, every time I ask something – they give me The Fool.”

Kon starts to walk up the stairs, complaining about idiot workaholics under his nose. This helps him think less about the nice, warm weight resting on his shoulder and more about how much of a human disaster Elliot is. A gorgeous-looking disaster whose butt is way too close to Conner’s face right now because of Elliot’s current placement on his shoulder.

Kon’s never been to the second floor, but he thinks that the only room which door is currently open must be Elliot’s. It turns out that Elliot has fallen asleep at some point between being carried from the first floor to the second, so Conner has no other option but to tuck him in.

 

***

 

The next time Conner visits the house on the cliff, summer heat is in full swing. Luckily for the house’s owner, the building is located in a pretty windy place, so it’s more bearable here. Still, Kon notices the windows all over the house being open, the one leading to the kitchen catching his attention. There’s music coming from it, and it’s the first time he hears any form of entertainment play in the house. So, employing all of his stealth, Kon sets off to investigate.

He crawls up to the window and peeks in. Elliot is standing by the table, his back turned to the window. There’s a soft melody coming from an old gramophone. As soon as the song starts, Elliot starts humming to it. When the lyrics start, Elliot breaks out into singing along under his nose.

 

_Take it easy with me, please_

_Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze_

 

And maybe Elliot’s voice is not any kind of professional singer-level, but it’s nice and also the way he swings his slim hips in tune with the music makes Conner burn all over.

 

_Take your time, make it slow_

_Andante, Andante_

_Just let the feeling grow_

 

Elliot’s singing gets louder at this point, a smile clear in his voice. Kon follows his body move and it’s all perfect up until the point when it’s not, because apparently Conner managed to stand up from his crouch at some point and grab the windowsill so hard it cracked a little. The sudden sound startles Elliot and he swirls around to meet Kon’s gaze.

“Um, hi!” he waves at Elliot, sounding lame even to himself.

A glass bowl finds this to be the best moment to roll of the table and break into a zillion of tiny parts, showering Elliot in shards and some brownish liquid that was inside. Elliot swears loudly and leans down to pick up the pieces. Kon flies into the house through the window and tries to help.

“Shit, man, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m currently more embarrassed because I didn’t notice you. How long have you been here?”

“I’ve just arrived,” Kon lies.

Together they scrub the floor clean and Superboy convinces Elliot to hand over the broom. Using superpowers to clean is a great advantage and Conner uses it without remorse. After he finishes, Kon notices a group of balloons in purple and blue colors floating around the room. There’s also a clearly handmade poster that says ‘no longer a dancing queen’ and has 18 written all over it.

“What’s that?”

Elliot turns away from the oven he is currently crouched in front of to look. As soon as he glances at the poster Kon’s pointing to, he smiles.

“My friends got mad I didn't tell them about my birthday last year so they are throwing 2 parties this time, one was yesterday and the other one will be next week, on my actual birthday.”

“Oh. How old are you gonna be?”

“Nineteen.”

“I’m 19, too! On papers at least.”

Elliot puts on ridiculous green oven mittens and starts carefully pulling a tray with cookies out of the oven. The cookies look strange, like they were supposed to be in one shape but melted into something indistinguishable.

“What,” Elliot smirks. “You have illegal documents, clone boy?”

“Well, yeah. You can’t be legally 6 looking the way I do.”

Kon attempts to steal a cookie from the tray, but Elliot swats at his hands.

“Are you sure it’s that hard to believe that you’re 6?”

He then looks at the cookies and sighs.

“My grandfather made it look so easy.”

“Wait, I thought your brother was the one who’s The Great Cook?”

“Who d'you think he learned it from?”

“Makes sense,” Kon nods. “Why’d you wanna make this, anyway?”

“I wanted to make some for my friends as thanks for the party. There’s a list of ingredients in Sophia’s book here, and some of the spices can draw in the things you need. I probably shouldn’t have added that much honey.”

Kon looks over over his shoulder into the recipe book laying open on the table. The writing is in Greek, so he doesn’t understand anything.

“What’s the honey for?”

“It’s supposed to bring happiness.”

“Hmmm and cinnamon?”

“It’s recommended if you want to draw in more money.”

Kon leans closer to Elliot and asks:

“What will you recommend for… Passionate love?”

Elliot stares back at him and deadpans:

“Viagra.”

Kon recoils from him and scowls when Elliot laughs.

“What, you having troubles, Superboy?”

“No! I’m good! I’m better than that, I’m great! I mean. What’s about all of those love potions?”

“They’re a scam. Seriously, you can’t magic love. It is there or it isn’t.”

“But I think we’ve had our fair share of villains making some heroes into love-sick and easily controlled idiots because of magic?”

“Well, there’s ways to fool a person’s mind into something like that, but it’s tricky. It can give all kinds of nasty side effects and it may be tied up onto person’s love towards someone else, so the dissonance may drive them mad. Or the whole magic spell or potion can be based on bringing up more basic, sexual urges and the side effect to that is extreme aggression.”

“Wow, that’s...no fun. How’d you know so much about it? Did you wanna win someone with it?” the last question stings, but Kon tries not to sound bitter.

“Of course not, I’d never do that! But, because the people here know I’m a witch, I’ve been asked to make a potion like that a dozen times already. And Sophia warned that they’d keep on asking me, because she always refused to make it.”

“Oh, she was a witch, too?”

“Yup, she’s also the one who I learned from,” Elliot smiles a warm smile, but his eyes are sad.

“Sorry. She must have been a great person.”

“Oh, she was terrifying sometimes,” Elliot laughs and this time there’s more happiness to it.

He then starts telling Kon about Sophia and all her quirks and shares a few stories about how she would give a person who annoyed her a water bottle with laxative instead of a potion. Also she tended to get irritated when Elliot didn’t clean his room and this prompts Kon to tell about Ma and how she usually makes him do his chores not using his superpowers. They end up sharing a lot of stories about their families. Elliot gets really into the conversation, smiling and laughing at Kon’s jokes. His eyes are always on Kon, so that’s probably why he doesn’t notice when he lets go of the spoon he’s been stirring the batter for the next batch of cookies with. The spoon continues to move in perfect circles. It’s the first time Elliot openly used magic in front of him, so Conner tries not to stare.

Sunset time comes too fast for Kon’s liking, so he has to get going, because Elliot is supposed to be leaving for his cryptic dusk and dawn job. But before he can fly away, Elliot stops him.

“Listen, about the party my friends are making for me. You could join if you’d like? I’d introduce you to them, they’re really great!”

Kon grins so wide his cheeks are hurting.

“Yes! When is it?”

“On Thursday next week.”

“Great, I’ll be there!”

He flies back home grinning, and he has half a mind to ask if maybe Elliot mixed some of those potions in his drink, because he is absolutely blissed-out and refuses to feel bad about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title's from r.i.d. [line ](https://unluckyloki.tumblr.com/post/184455270593/inkskinned-she-tells-me-the-devil-is-banging)
> 
> wow Tim your idea of flirting is hitting a person with a book like a 10 year old schoolkid
> 
> anyone guessed where the song's from? ◕ ◡ ◕


	8. No, the stars never whispered my name, my future. I grabbed my own fate with two hungry hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here are the women with ancient anger in their veins and the cruelty of a goddess in their hearts (c)
> 
> It turns out, Sophia has friends and they’re arguing because of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: for slight transphobia and this is the last chapter that will feature Sophia, so, you know what's coming  
> oh and I've read up on demisexuality and that's exactly how I see Tim in the comics, so there's also some talk about sex
> 
> the amount of text in this is insane. take your time and remember that you're my hero for reading the chapter!
> 
>  _flashback chapter~_  
>  events happen a year before Kon meets 'Elliot' __

Learning magic with Sophia meant reading a shitload of books on plants. That was not what Tim expected, but maybe his perception of magic was more shaped by the Harry Potter movies than he wanted to admit.

Agonizing weeks after, he knows the names of plants and flowers and can tell their usage in magic, and Sophia was still to teach him do anything with it. Tim goes to confront her about it.

“I’ve learned everything there is to learn from the books you gave me. Can you give me something else?”

Sophia looks at him, her gaze calculating, and then pulls a piece of paper out of her apron pocket. The woman gives it to him.

“Make me potion.”

Happy that there’s finally something he can actually do, Tim sprints to the kitchen. His glee subdues swiftly, as soon as he looks at the piece of paper. There’s three simple ingredients and quickly putting their meanings together Tim understands it’s a variation of plain cough medicine. He stomps back to the garden, where Sophia is enjoying the sun and the birds chipping.

“This is cough medicine,” he says accusingly, handing her the paper.

Sophia looks as him, apparently amused.

“Yes,” she says. “Make the potion.”

By the Tim gets back to the kitchen, he’s fuming. He measures the ingredients carefully and throws them into the water. Together with stirring it with his left hand, as instructed, it takes him 15 minutes tops. Tim fills a ceramic cup with the dark-brown liquid and takes it back to Sophia.

“Drink,” she instructs.

“Thank you, my throat is ok.”

“Drink,” Sophia says more firmly.

Tim rolls his eyes, but takes a sip, only to cough and splutter in the next moment, because it tastes like the most disgusting thing he’s ever tried. He still tries to spit out the horrible taste in his mouth, when Sophia hands him a glass of water. She’s also smiling wryly.

“What you feel when making that is what you taste now. Whatever you do, it is with your emotions,” Sophia presses the ceramic cup with into his hand. “Make potion again.”

Tim, still trying to get rid of the disgusting taste, goes to make the next batch. Now, he is determined to do it right, because, well, he’s goddamn Batman-trained, he can absolutely ace controlling emotions. In the best emotionally compartmentalized state he can manage, Tim mixes and stirs. The resulting liquid is mostly transparent, with yellowish hue.

“Drink,” Sophia says again, when he brings her the cup.

“Can I maybe not?”

“Drink.”

The taste is not bad, but it’s also not good, and, actually, Tim’s not exactly sure what taste it even is. It maybe feels like nothing, but leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Tim licks his lips and rinses his mouth with the water Sophia gives him, but the bitter taste gets even stronger. The old woman holds out the cup.

“This is cough medicine,” she says and Tim’s sure he’s mocking his previous tone. “Cough medicine, not poison. You maybe want one drinks it to get better?”

Tim scowls, not getting where this is going, but nods.

“So think good things. Happy things. Use your emotions. Make them work for you.”

Tim drags his feet back to the kitchen and okay he knows how to repress and put aside emotions, but actually using them? This was not taught in Batman School. This is against all of his training and experiences. It’s also absolutely not his strong suit.

But Sophia said – happy thoughts? It takes time to remember what it feels like, to be happy. He thinks to his childhood, but dismisses it quickly, because he doesn’t remember much from it. He thinks about following Batman and Robin around the city, but it’s more thrill and excitement, not exactly pure bliss. He thinks about how Dick used to hang with him on weekends, when there were just the two of them, about the day when Bruce adopted him and about finding friends in the Titans team and then the thoughts about Cassie’s teasing and Bart’s changeless excitement morph into thinking solely about Kon. His constant support, his smile. And if he had ever kissed him, would his lips feel as rough as Nikos’ did?

The third drink is a warm, sunny-colored yellow. This time, Sophia just looks at him. He sighs, but drinks it.

It tastes like strawberries, even though Tim is sure he never put any strawberries in it. As soon as he thinks this, the taste morphs into vanilla ice-cream and then Tim thinks he can distantly smell hay. Sophia snickers at him.

“Not love potion,” she reminds him, shaking her head in amusement. Tim flushes under her gaze. “But better. Do it again.”

It takes him a few more tries until she deems it acceptable. Sophia also tells him about using the way he feels in potions and magic, to pour emotions into it. She even tells him to never cook in a bad mood, because the food may get spoiled by bad feelings.

“There’s primal power in emotions,” Sophia says. “If you do not know them, you not know _you_.”

If Tim’s idea of seeing magic as a kind of energy is right, it makes sense. Kind of. Because Tim maybe needs like a few dozen hours to wrap his head around it, without any way to examine, gather the readings and analyze the results. He still has the experiment method on hand, so the next time he goes to the improvised cinema set up behind Nikos’ family cafe, he brings cookies he made while wholeheartedly concentrating on being very, very sad.

It all seems normal up until the moment when Kiki starts a conversation about how she and Nikos are leaving soon to go to the university in Athens and how homesick she’s already feeling and then Nikos joins in saying how he doesn’t want to go and Nik throws himself at him, wailing how he doesn’t want Kiki and Nikos to leave him. Soon, everyone – but perplexed Tim – is crying.

The experiment is a success and Tim feels very, very bad about it.

At dinner, he tells Sophia about what he did.

“You need something to do,” she shakes her head, but laughs a little. “Or else, poor village.”

The next morning, after Tim comes back from the temple, Sophia hands him a basket and says that they’re going to the forest. Tim’s surprised to find the basket full of freshly baked bread.

“It’s new moon,” Sophia explains. “We going to feed forest spirits.”

Turns out, Sophia wasn’t joking that time when he told him not to follow anyone calling him in the forest. The old woman says she can’t translate their names and the names in Greek don’t make much sense to Tim. He’s been to the forest dozen of times before, accompanying Sophia on her herb-gathering trips, but he’s never seen any spirits in there. When he says this to Sophia, the old woman smiles slyly:

“Don’t mean they didn’t see you.”

When they enter the forest, Tim feels like his skin is crawling – he’s expecting spirits to jump at him from a tree at any given moment. He follows Sophia off the path and into the depth of the woods. They walk for what can be fifteen or thirty minutes. The sun beams through the tree tops, the birds are chipping, hidden somewhere high in the brunches, the leaves are rustling and absolutely nothing happens. When they reach a small clearing that’s no different to Tim that any of the others they passed, Sophia stops.

“Choose a tree to give gifts to,” she nods at bread and, gathering a few loafs into her hands, walks towards the trees on the right side of the clearing.

Tim’s left with a basket full of bread at his feet and crippling anxiety. How exactly does he choose? Why does he have to choose a tree? What does it have to look like? What if he chooses the wrong one?

Sophia comes back, and he’s still standing in the middle of the clearing, frowning and unsure. Tim startles when she taps her knuckles on his forehead.

“You can’t go analyzing magic. Close your eyes, choose with your heart.”

“This doesn’t even make sense!” Tim bristles. “How can I choose anything with my eyes closed?!”

“Intuition,” Sophia says, putting her hand on his solar plexus. “Listen to it.”

Tim huffs, but closes his eyes. Okay, he can, begrudgingly, believe in intuition. In fights, there are these moments when you just know that there’s a person behind, coming at you with a knife, even though there’s no way to see it. Or the moment when you know it’s the door on the right where the hostages are. He remembers they once discussed it with Dick and Steph, all three of them sharing similar situations.

Which doesn’t mean it’s easy to make himself listen to the phantom intuition sense. Frustrated, Tim ends up gesturing randomly somewhere to the left.

“Okay, whatever, that one.”

Sophia chuckles and hands him a loaf.

“Careful with your thoughts,” she reminds him. “And use your right hand.”

The tree Tim pointed to turns out to be small, just about reaching to his waist. He squats in front of it, putting the bread near the barely-visible roots. Tim, letting go of his anger, feels bad for the small tree. It’s tall neighbors are positively dwarfing it. Tim can relate, being the shortest of his brothers. Well, technically, Damian is the shortest, but Tim’s not delusional, he’s sure with the genes of both Bruce and Talia in him, the gremlin will not stay like that for a long time. Tim sighs and moves his hand to one of the branches to pet it’s leaves in sympathy.

Then, two things happen. First, a small ghost-y hand appears out of nowhere and grabs his finger. Second, Tim emits an undignified yelp and falls, landing on his ass.

Sophia's laughing somewhere in the distance. Tim doesn't dare turn away - just in front of him, a small figure appears, solidifying from a seemingly transparent form. It looks much like a human child, except that the figure has muddy-green skin and brownish hair. The eyes of a child are dark-green, with brown spots of various sizes. There's round patches of darker color all over the tree-child's skin, loosely resembling clothes.

Then, it smiles – and loses all likeness to a human child, because the teeth in the creature’s mouth are pointy and razor-sharp.

“Right hand,” Sophia’s voice whispers into his ear.

Tim doesn’t dare turn around to see where she actually is. He takes the loaf and slowly puts it up towards the child-like creature. It’s grin widens and it snatches the loaf out of his hand, gliding a few steps away and sinking the pointy teeth into the bread.

Tim moves carefully, backtracking to Sophia, who’s sitting in the middle of the clearing. There’s sweet buns and wine on a plaid towel – all ready for a picnic.

“Bread is made of grain,” Tim says slowly and quietly, watching the tree-child devour the bread. “Grain is a plant. Tree is also a plant. What's the word for cannibalism for trees?”

Sophia huffs in amusement and shakes her head. She seems to be doing that an awful lot lately, around him. Only after Tim takes a bun and a glass with wine does Sophia answer:

“Trees are not soft and nice, trees are ruthless. They are patient, they crawl through stone and move mountains. Trees deserve respect.”

On their way back to the cottage, Sophia stops to leave a few more ‘gifts’ on the path and tells Tim to only look forward – turning around may make him see something he’s not ready for.

Yet.

Tim decides to believe her and not test it, even though he can feel the back of his neck prickle as he walks the path. He’s never thought he’s going to be wary of trees, and here he is.

When Tim asks Sophia about the reason behind the gifts, she says:

“If you take something, you have to give something back. Can’t make something out of nothing, we are witches, not gods.”

This actually works well if you think about the law of conservation of energy, with it neither disappearing nor being created. If magic is actually the way to manipulate energy and change it’s form and. And.

“Wait, do gods actually exist?”

“Eh, no the way people thinks. No reason to,” she stopped and waved her hand in the air. “To do this praying and dancing thing.”

“Worship?”

“That. Some witches work with them, but it’s not safe. There always is a price and it’s always too big.”

“What’s about the deals with demons?”

Sophia smiles slyly at that.

“There is difference?”

***

Next time he’s in the village, Tim buys a notebook. He writes down things Sophia says in passing. It fills in slowly, but steadily, with things like:

  * Don’t pick money up from crossroads;
  * The right hand is for giving and the left one – for receiving;
  * Do not summon what you can not banish;
  * Mind your words, especially in anger - there is power in them.



Unexpectedly, it does make it’s own convoluted way of sense, when Tim tries hard enough to connect it all to his own knowledge. He’s still no good with the intuition, though, but Sophia tells him it’ll come with time and practice.

Said practice begins with her setting a bowl with five glass balls it in front of him. All of them are crystal-clear and seem to have zero difference between them. Sophia says they are charged with different energies, and it’s his task to tell her which one is filled with what. Tim spends half a day trying to figure it out and then – the whole night, but makes no progress.

He ends up putting them in his pocket and forgetting about them for a day or two, because it’s already time for Kiki and Nikos to leave for Athens, so he and Nik are plotting a surprise farewell party. It goes well, with a lot of photos taken and a lot of promises made – even the ones about letters, because ‘Elliot’ doesn’t have a reliable computer or even a phone.

The next day, Tim and Nik are standing on the shore. As they wave goodbye to the boat that takes the two of their friends away, Nik leans on Tim’s shoulder. They watch the boat until they can’t see it anymore. Tim ends up half-hugging him and they stay like that until someone behind them clears their throat. Nik swears in English and jumps away from Tim, swirling around. His mom, who Tim only saw a few times, is standing a few feet away. Tim hastily remembers his promise to call Nik by another name when his mother is around, but she only smiles to him politely and beckons Nik to come closer. After a minute of hushed conversation she leaves and Nik comes back to him, annoyance clear on his face.

“So, what was that?” Tim asks, watching Nik pull his midi-skirt lower.

Tim noticed that’s a thing he does when he gets really nervous or uncomfortable. Nik doesn’t answer, pulling on his long braids instead. Tim carefully pulls Nik’s hands away from his hair, and he finally answers:

“We’ve been hanging out a lot lately, so now Mom thinks I'm dating you and pffff that’s stupid.”

“Oh, wow, thanks,” Tim says, faking an offended tone.

Nik flushes, embarrassed.

“No, it's not, not. Not, like that there's just. I, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Hey, Nik, I know, I’m just messing with you. It’s okay.”

“It’s just that Mom wants me to be this perfect daughter she’s always wanted, to find a husband and have kids and she expects so much from me and, and it’s just so... there was this word,” Nik puts his hands to his throat, trying to explain the word he forgot.

“Suffocating?”

“Yeah. I really wanted to be perfect for Mom, but I can’t. I just want to be myself.”

To Tim’s mind, Nik’s mother doesn’t deserve this kind of devotion, but he also can understand the overwhelming need to be good for your parents. (He’s still pretty pissed that Nik’s mom only buys him dresses and skirts and forces him to keep his hair long. Because, come on, even if she says she ‘gave birth to a daughter and will raise her like one’, this is some insane Medieval bullshit.) Nik is actually a talented athlete, there’s so much more he can achieve. Tim hopes he can get into the sports major he wants to next year.

“It’ll get better when you finish school, I’m sure of it,” he says to Nik and, trying to cheer him up, adds, “Race you to the cliffs.”

Nik grins and dashes forward without another word, leaving Tim behind. He yells indignantly and has to start running, too. They spend the next hour stone skipping and being pretty melancholic. When the thoughts lead Tim to Gotham and the family, he desperately wants to check news articles about them, to see if everything’s okay. But his hand, that he automatically puts in his pocket, can’t reach for the phone that’s not there. Instead, his fingers touch something else, something so cold it burns and he has to yank his hand away. Nik doesn’t seem to notice, engrossed in his own musing, so Tim carefully dumps the contents out of his pockets. The glass balls roll to the ground and he barely has the time to catch them. When he touches the last one he picks up, it still feels cool to the touch. It doesn’t look any different from the others, but feels different. Sophia told him they were all charged with different things, didn’t she? Tim tries to remember what he did before he touched it and puts the ball in the middle of his right palm, covering it with his left.

Tim was just sitting here, that’s nothing special, right? He was also thinking about his family. At that, the ball in between his palms starts to cool down even more. Oh, so that’s it? Tim concentrates more on thinking about his family and how talking to Nik about ‘being yourself’ made him think what it meant to him. Tim’s been Robin, because someone had to, because Dick didn’t want to and Jason couldn’t. He took Red Robin’s name and Jason’s costume after that, because he couldn’t have Robin anymore, but Bruce needed to be found. And maybe also to prove a point that he still had a place in the family at the time when, really, he didn’t. He had molded himself after others but was he ever truly himself? And would the family even want him, the titles stripped away, as just, well, him?

When he opens his palms, the glass ball if covered in ice.

“What’s that?” Nik asks, startling him.

Shit, Tim forgot that he wasn’t alone. With his panicking, the ice begins to melt.

“I, um It’s just. Nothing, really.” Nik doesn’t look convinced, so Tim adds lamely, “I’m just learning something from Sophia. Gotta do something with my time, right?”

He tries to smile, but knows it looks even more awkward than it feels when he meets Nik’s unimpressed gaze. Then, Nik’s features soften and he sighs.

“There’s a story behind you, isn’t it? Bigger than I can imagine.”

Unable to say anything and not wanting to lie, Tim simply nods. He feels almost hysterical because of Nik’s silence, but, thankfully, it doesn’t last.

“You will tell me everything when you’re ready, okay?”

Tim nods again, but says nothing.

“And for now, learn whatever magical stuff you wanna and don’t freak out in front of me. Like, really, all village knows about Sophia and everyone has seen some weird shit at least once in their life here. And, oh, look,” Nik grins and nudges him with his elbow. “We actually weren’t that wrong about you, witch-nephew!”

Tim huffs, irritated, pushing his elbow away.

“I wasn’t exactly planing this back then. It just kinda happened,” he pulls his fingers through his hair and sighs. “I’m really bad at it.”

“You’re smart, I’ve seen you with electronics in the workshop, you crack all the issues so fast! I know it’s not the same, but still… I’m sure you’re gonna do great!”

Tim smiles and wishes he had Nik’s confidence.

***

Tim figures out the other intentions imprinted into the glass balls withing the next few days. He finds love, hatred, hope and fear in them and spends the next week mixing them and trying to guess again. It makes for a great exercise and also ends up being extremely tiring for him, because calling for a specific emotion and holding it in long enough to find the response – for a person who would rather bury all of those things deep down – is nerve-wreaking.

He’s still toying with the puzzle, when, one day, after the evening visit to the temple, he comes back to the cottage full of guests. They’re not anyone from the village, because Sophia doesn’t let in that many people at once. Also, no one from the village ever dares to disagree with the old woman, and the voices in the cottage are clearly arguing. Tim creeps closer to the window, employing all of his skills not to be detected. This is not stalking, this is… recon mission!

There’s women in the kitchen, sitting on various chairs that were dragged from all around the house. The kitchen smells like freshly made mulled wine. There’s six of the women and each of them has a glass in front of her.

It turns out, Sophia has friends and they’re arguing because of him.

“We are just surprised, darling, that’s it,” says a woman with long, wavy black hair. There’s a ring with a big, shiny stone surrounded by smaller ones on her left hand. Tim has no doubt that they’re diamonds, but they don’t seem tacky on her. From the angle she’s sitting at, he can only see half of her face, but he’s sure she could be a natural among the guests of one of Bruce’s galas. Or even more than that – with her British accent and the simple, but obviously expensive clothes she could be among European monarch family and not look out of place.

“Surprised ain’t covering it! You take a student for the fist time in centuries and it’s a boy?” says a tall woman with a slight, nearly-there french accent. She’s wearing a piece of material wrapped around her head that resembles a turban. The emerald-green color of it matches so beautifully with her dark-brown skin that Tim’s hands itch for a camera.

“I like him,” Sophia shrugs. “He amuses me.”

Oh, so Sophia is keeping him because he’s funny. Good to know.

“He’s a boy,” another one of them, who’s wearing moss-green rubber boots, says. “ ’S not right.”

Her R’s hard, Russian-sounding. She’s the only one, with the exempt of Sophia, who has gray hair and looks older then fifty.

“Don’t be mean,” says a young woman with blond hair and red lipstick. Tim thinks he might have seen her somewhere, but he can’t seem to put his finger on it. “Wouldn’t it be exciting – to have someone new join us? It’s been years and I’m tired of being the youngest!”

“Shut up, Holly!” a few of the women say in unison.

The blonde pouts.

“See, ya always pick on me!”

“We are not discussing anyone joining, we are discussing the fact that you have obviously waited for too long for your next reincarnation and are going insane! A boy can not be called a ‘witch’, everyone knows it,” says another woman.

She’s Asian and she’s wearing what Tim recognizes as hanfu, modernized version. It’s became very fashionable in China lately – he knows, because Cass showed him hers. She liked how the long sleeves went ‘whoosh’ (and how one could hide many weapons inside).

Sophia looks at the woman in hanfu, her gaze angry. She’s about to say something, but the headdress-wearing woman beats her to it:

“Wait a minute, like _you’re_ the one to talk about _titles_ being appropriate!”

“Men are simply inferior in the Craft and that’s a fact!”

“It true,” adds the woman in rubber boots.

“Heya, maybe let’s all calm down and be more positive?” the blonde, Holly, smiles nervously. “I think not all of us voiced their opinions?”

She gestures to another woman who Tim hasn’t heard talk yet. Her hair and even her eyebrows are such white, snowy color, that it doesn’t look real. Her skin is extremely pale and her arms are covered in blue geometric symbols. She’s wearing what Tim could swear looks like a mismatched disarray of deerskin.

“Oh yes, how could we forget the valuable opinion of an uncultured barbarian?” huffs the hanfu-wearing woman.

The following argument erupts so loudly and with a lot of mutual accusations that Tim doesn’t bother to follow. He just carefully slips away and flees towards the greenhouse. It’s been quite some time since he felt bad enough to need to come here. Tim hides himself in the further corner.

So what that people don’t want him around? Big fucking news. Like it’s the first time he’s told he’s not good enough. Get in a fucking line.

He curls in on himself, shaking slightly with each inhale. And doesn’t notice when another person joins him in the greenhouse – up until the moment said person puts a hand on his shoulder. Tim jerks under a foreign touch and looks up.

The woman with unnaturally white skin and hair looks at him with pale gray eyes and it feels like her gaze can reach down to his very soul. She probably sees what she needed, because the next moment she stops staring intently into his eyes and smiles, taking a bracelet off her hand.

“Here. Freya's …. tears. For husband…. Lost.”

She makes a lot of pauses, as if talking is hard for her. It sounds a bit like Cass and it suddenly hurts too much to handle.

The woman pats his cheek softly.

“What lost … your tears for?”

Tim’s not sure when he started crying, but, when he checks, his cheeks are wet. He rubs them furiously, willing himself to stop.

“It’s nothing,” he says, and his voice comes out hoarse.

The woman brings the bracelet closer to his face. The stones on it look like amber. Tim takes it, unsure why the woman would be giving it to him. As soon as he accepts the bracelet and slips it on his wrist, the woman smiles, her teeth showing.

“Okay, can go now,” she says and drags him up to his feet.

She then proceeds to lead him back to the cottage, not letting go of his hand . When they get closer to the door, the woman puts a finger to her lips and shushes him.

“We…. Surprise them. Be a shadow. Silence. Not seen. Like you can. Always could.”

Does she mean magic? Or his vigilante skills?

Either way, he’s no stranger to being ‘not seen’. Tim did manage to stay hidden from Batman, for years, following him and his Robin on the rooftops. He remembers desperately hiding and chanting to himself ‘don’t notice me, I’m not here, I’m not here’. Tim wonders if it’ll work now, with the room full of witches. No harm in trying, right? He could sneak up on Batman, after all.

The white-haired woman smiles at him knowingly and steps into the house, beckoning him to follow.

Being in the shadows is a second nature by now, so that’s what he does. He takes a sit in the corner – hiding in plain sight.

The women around him are still bickering and paying no attention to him. There’s arguments being made in favor of the fact that men can not be witches, while some of the women are reluctantly disagreeing. There’s a lot of references and mutual accusations that Tim is not getting.

After ten minutes of listening to them, Tim has had enough.

“You know, it would be nice if you at least talked to me first.”

They all, as one, turn to him, varying degrees of bafflement on their faces.

“How long have you been here?” the woman with the diamond ring asks carefully.

Tim looks each one of them in the eyes, his gaze unwavering.

“Long enough.”

There’s a long pause after, the whole room silent, unmoving. Tim feels like the world is taking a deep breathe before something big. Then, the black woman in the green headdress starts to laugh.

“Good one!” she says, coming closer to Tim. She then puts her fingers under his chin and lifts his face up to look into his eyes. “Feisty kid, I get why you like him.”

Sophia smiles proudly at that and Tim feels a bit better about himself. He also notices that the white-haired witch is grinning at him, while others gather around him. Rubber Boots is smiling a small, amused smile of a tired grandmother whose grand-kid just screamed “look what I made” and handed her a macaroni necklace. The hanfu-wearing witch is still frowning.

Tim really should stop calling them by their clothes choices of the day and ask for their names, but he’s also not sure how introduction to witches should go. Luckily, the woman if front of him seems to guess his dilemma – or is she reading his mind? God, he hopes she can’t read his mind.

“I’m Marie,” she says, and now he can finally put a name to the woman in the green headdress. “This is Holly, our youngest – she’s not even one hundred yet!”

The blonde, Holly, smiles and gives him the thumbs up. Tim’s not sure if he wants to dwell on the fact that ‘not a hundred yet’ is their definition of young.

“This is Ginny,” Marie gestures towards the woman with the diamond ring.

The woman inclines her head, full of grace, and Tim fights the urge to bow in return.

Rubber Boots steps closer next. There’s a slight limp to her left leg and when Tim looks into her eyes, the right one seems unfocused, glazed-over.

“You can call me Veda,” she says and puts out her hand for a hand shake.

Her hand is smaller then Tim’s but feels incredibly strong. Nevertheless, he doesn’t flinch, and Veda steps away smiling more sincerely.

The hanfu witch steps up next.

“Call me Wu.”

Contrary to the usual greeting in most of the Asian countries, she does not bow, her back gets even more straight after the greeting, her chin going up. Tim, still sitting on the chair he chose as his hiding spot, is eye-level with her. Even then, he knows not to underestimate people based on their size – there’s raw power he can almost feel off her. So he bows his head slightly, as a greeting and an acknowledgment.

“And we call her Lif,” finishes Marie, gesturing to the white witch.

Lif smiles and waves. From up-close, Tim’s sure that the symbols on her skin are a bit faded tattoos. He maybe saw some of them in the books Sophia has – he’ll have to check later. Meanwhile, Maria picks up a cup that’s most likely hers and swings it up in the air.

“Introductions done, time to party!”

“You forget whose house is this,” Sophia says in a deceptively calm voice.

There’s a silent battle happening between their gazes and Tim would rather not get in the middle of it. It ends as silently as it started, with Sophia saying:

“Take your chalices.”

Tim is given a cup with ruby-colored liquid that he presumes is mulled whine. It smells strongly of alcohol and he scrunches his nose.

“It’s not that bad,” Holly winks at him, while pouring more of the liquid from the big cauldron on the table into her already empty cup.

“It is customary in one’s coven to share a special drink while holding a sacred meeting. If you’re to join us, surely you can stomach it, dearie,” Ginny says from behind him.

She smiles pleasantly at him when Tim turns to look at her and takes a careful sip as to add emphasis to what she’s just said.

“Tradition,” Veda nods and drains her cup in a few gulps.

Wu nods, makes sure to hold Veda's gaze and does the same, finishing the cup even in less time. Veda shakes her finger accusingly at her.

“Challenge?”

“Indeed,” Wu smiles a daring, warlike smile.

Without further delay, they depart to the closest corner and pull bottles of something transparent from thin air. Sophia follows them with amused gaze, and something tells Tim it’s not the first time this happens.

“Wait, is he even legal to drink? How old is he?” Marie asks Sophia, as if Tim’s not in the room.

“Legal, in this country,” Sophia shrugs and takes a big gulp from her own cup. “But not yours.”

The next moment Tim is suddenly being tackle-hugged from behind.

“Oh my gosh he’s not even 21?!” Holly screams excitedly. “He’s a baby!”

“In my time, people have three kids when this old,” Veda adds.

Her and Wu have already camped out on a couch in the ‘living room’ part of the house. The first floor is more like a studio, there’s no walls to actually make the ‘living room’ a separate place, but Tim just likes calling it that. While everyone else suddenly decides to add what was the appropriate thing to do at 18 in their time and shout it to the other two, Lif appears to Tim’s right, patting his shoulder. When he looks at her, she sighs dramatically and clangs their glasses together. She drinks from hers and Tim follows. The taste is actually not bad, it’s sweet and spicy. Tim takes another sip.

Soon, everyone seems to want to move to the couch and armchairs where Wu and Veda are lounging, to avoid shouting to each other. Electronic lights go off, candles get lit, the smell of spices and wine drifts through the air. There’s nice and lively chatter all around the house and Tim zones out for a bit, sipping his drink. Then he gets dragged to the couch by and exited and tipsy Holly, ‘to be with everyone’. He finds himself squeezed between Marie and Ginny. It looks like Ginny has been complaining about some made-for-TV movie for some time, so he hears only a part of it:

“Lancelot? Is that a joke? He had a male lover, he did not care for women!”

Marie is laughing and doesn’t seem like she’s about to stop any time soon. Ginny narrows her eyes at her.

“You just love it when I’m suffering, don’t you?”

“You have your Josh or whatever his horrible name is to ease your suffering, don’t you?” Holly parrots back at her from the nearby armchair. Ginny’s gaze borders on something dangerous and Tim’s instincts scream at him to try and get in between them or else a bloodshed may start. But then Ginny’s gaze goes softer and she smiles.

“No need to be so jealous, sweetie,” she says and shows off her ring. Oh, it’s an engagement ring – Tim didn’t notice before.

Holly chokes on her wine, looking scandalized and ready to start a rant, but Marie stops her with a careful hand on her shoulder.

“Leave her be, honey. Ginny always had so much luck with men, since the beginning,” she says to Tim as if it’s supposed to explain something. “She had buried so many husbands since then! Did they die of natural causes? No-one knows.”

Marie adds that with a wink directed at Tim. Ginny smacks her arm lightly.

“Oh, don't you listen to her, dearie! Marie has a horrible sense of humor,” Ginny says, stroking Tim’s hand.

Confused, Tim settles on drinking some more wine. At some point later, he ends up half-lying on Marie’s knees, with her hand mindlessly patting his hair, and he probably should feel bad about being treated like some kind of a lap-dog, but he also doesn’t care. There’s still conversation around the room, but it subdues gradually, with some of the women leaving the room and some of them falling asleep in various armchairs. Only Sophia and Marie are still talking, and Tim’s trying and failing to listen. Up until Marie’s soothing, slightly accented soft murmur lulls him to sleep.

***

The next morning Tim’s sunrise alarm is blaring and he wakes up, as he usually does, in his bed. He’s almost sure he dreamed yesterday’s evening, but when he goes to the kitchen to make coffee, there’s Sophia and Lif, the white witch, sitting at the table together. Lif waves at him enthusiastically, full of energy at this ungodly hour. Tim waves back weakly and starts on making breakfast.

When the coffeepot on the stove is ready, another person stumbles into the kitchen. And… the thing is, he knows, intellectually, that it’s Holly in front of him, but it’s also kind of not? Her features don’t seem the same as yesterday, even though Tim can’t exactly say what has changed. He stares longer than he probably should and Holly steals his cup of coffee.

“Ugh, why should you make me wake up this early,” she says accusingly to him.

“I, um, didn’t?”

Holly pouts and Lif snickers into her cup of tea. Sophia looks at him, her eyebrow raised. Knowing her as he does, Tim sees amusement glimmer in her eyes.

“Your learning,” Sophia explains. “With us. Her turn – first, we all agree yesterday.”

Tim does not remember agreeing to anything like that yesterday, but he also doesn’t remember getting back to his bed, so maybe the wine was stronger than it seemed.

Lif catches his attention by waving her hand. When Tim looks at her, she gestures towards herself and then holds up two fingers.

“Yes, yes, you’re second, but today the baby’s mine!” Holly says to her and drags Tim towards the door. Sophia thrusts a sandwich in a paper beg into his hands before they get out of the door.

“Give him back before sunset,” Tim hears Sophia shout after them.

Holly agrees hastily and herds him towards the road that leads to the forest.

“Hey, wait, I have an errand to run first!”

“Yeah, the temple, I know,” Holly says, not stopping.

Tim tries to dig his heels into the ground to make her stay in one place for at least a minute.  
“It’s kind of in the opposite direction.”

This stops Holly, but she doesn’t let go of his hand.

“But there are some trees on the hill, aren’t there? So we can cut through the forest, it’s all connected any way,” she says cheerfully. Probably in answer to Tim’s confused expression, Holly adds, “Didn’t Soph tell you? This thing about how ‘all the forests are one and you can get anywhere by navigating the connection between them’?”

“What? No, how is it supposed to work?”

“Ugh, shoot, I didn’t wanna be the one explaining it to you. It’s kinda really complicated and you’ll sit through Wu’s lecture on it one day, which will last for hours and still you’ll understand _nothing_. I guarantee – been there, done that. Anyway, it’s better if I just show you.”

So Tim gets dragged into the forest any way and after following some paths that he’s almost sure Holly chooses randomly, they somehow emerge from the cluster of trees just behind the temple. The sun’s rising, so he has no time to ask Holly for more questions and goes into the temple. He finishes his usual routine with Orpheus and rushes out, back to Holly. She smiles, overjoyed, and takes his hand, leading him back to the trees.

They walk through the forest and, again, it doesn’t look like a deliberate route for Tim, but Holly seems like she knows what she’s doing. She’s chattering about her house and how happy she is to have him as a guest and that it’s such a nice place, really, he’s going to love it!

They emerge from another group of trees and into the backyard of a single-story house. It looks like something from a rich neighborhood, and Tim, who grew up in one, gets hold up by the general view for a moment. After the village where he has lived for months, this place looks so strange. He feels so out of place that it makes him wonder – when, _if_ , he gets back home, would he still fit in?

Holly calls for him to go and check out the amazing view of the bay she has and Tim follows her through the house. On her way, Holly claps her hands and electric lights turn on all around them – because it’s already dark outside. With the lights on, he can see that the house’s design is full of warm, pleasant shades of brown. Tim starts thinking that the late evening outside may place the house in a wide variety of cities around the world, like Mexico or some islands in the Pacific ocean, but then his thoughts come to a halt.

The view of the city skyline is as amazing as Holly promised. He can see the city lights and the skyscrapers and even the Golden Gate Bridge.

“You know, it all was so unexpected, I don’t even know what to do with you!” Holly laughs, not noticing his current state. “I mean, I gotta teach you something, don’t I? It’s what all of this is about, after all. Oh, no worries, I’ll come up with something! Maybe, we should eat first? Do you like Thai? I love it! We can order in, watch some movies – aren’t movies in this century just delightful? Oh golly, I’m rambling, am I? Am I boring you?”

“No, I, it’s. We. We’re in San Francisco?”

Tim’s sure that he could see the Titans Tower if he moved a bit to the right.

He doesn’t move.

“Yeah, you like it?” Holly smiles at first, but it fades as she looks back at Tim. It takes her a few more seconds and a more thoughtful look before something clicks. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry, baby!”

She puts a hand around his shoulders and pulls him back towards the house.

“So we’re gonna stay in and eat good food! It’s gonna be awesome! And don’t you worry, I’ll place an order right now!”

She pulls out a phone to order, then opens up Twitter and types a few emojis in. Tim looks over her shoulder, intrigued.

“What’s that?”

Holly jumps, not having noticed him looking into her phone. She hides her phone and her bubbly, happy personality slips, a frown instead on her face.

“I know, it’s stupid.”

“What is?”

“My emoji spells. D’you think they’re silly, too? I won’t blame you, you’re not the first. The others think I’m silly, you see. They hate me and my spells.”

Because of the way Holly’s not looking at him, Tim knows this is important.

Even before Holly met him, she has showed him nothing more than support and kindness, so he hopes he won’t screw this up.

It takes him a moment to gather the words that seem right.

“I don’t think you’re silly. Sophia told me magic is an individual thing, you find what works for you and use it. If it works for you, then it’s good.”

When Holly smiles a really sincere smile, Tim thinks he’s done at least something right.

“Why’d you think the others hate you? Aren’t you in the same coven together, shouldn’t it, I don’t know, mean something?”

Holly sighs.

“They’re older than me. Some of them don’t really like or get technology. I mean, I also wasn’t born in this century, but you could always learn! Learning is great, and when you can have a mini-computer in your pocket with all the knowledge the world can offer, why not use it?” when Tim nods in agreement, Holly beams. “See? You get it! But the others… I mean, in most of their houses, the magic charge is so strong it breaks almost all electronics. Making at least something work takes really a lot of effort that not everyone’s ready for.”

“Oh, that’s why we’ve got only a fridge and the lights working!”

“Yes, exactly! If she could, Soph would just have her plants and nothing else.”

Tim laughs at that and Holly grins.

“I mean no disrespect, Soph’s a terrific woman,” she adds. “But, you know.”

“Oh, I _do_ ,” Tim agrees.

They stay like that, smiling, for a minute, and it feels so nice and comfortable. Up until the moment when Holly’s smile becomes more wistful than happy.

“Marie’s nice to me - but she’s too nice. It's because she's kinda afraid of me. She has like ten kids, you know? And she knows that I always wanted a baby, and I tried to, three times… but it never… So that's why she's so careful with me, like I might break.”

Tim is about to reach out to her to take her hand, but her gaze – strong, burning – stops him. Tim feels like he can see her features better now, and like he must know them.

“I won't break,” she says with conviction. “I like being a witch. I'm stronger than I ever was.”

A doorbell rings and Holly jumps. Her gaze loses the steel in it – a soft, friendly expression is back in no time.

“Oh dear, it's our food! I'll be right back!”

She bounces to the door, manifesting a wad of cash on her way. Tim listens to her chat and laugh with the delivery boy, who attempts to call her by a long, complicated Italian-sounding surname. Holly laughs her soft, compassionate laugh that makes you feel like the fact that you just messed up is no big deal at all. And tells the boy to call her Chelsea.

“That's not your name,” Tim says to her, when Holly gets back.

“Oh, of course it's not. Chelsea is a classy girl, this house fits her,” Holly says and then leans to him, saying this in a hushed tone, like sharing a secret, “Names have power, you know.”

“Lord Dream said they don't matter.”

“They don't. To him. Because he has so many and because, in his core, he _is_ dream, always will be. He can't lose it. He's almost like a god, and you're human.”

“What's about you?”

“I'm a witch. You can be a witch, too, one day. If you want to.”

Holly holds his gaze for a moment, and it feels like she’s looking inside of him. Then, she smiles.

“Anyway, let's eat! You haven't had anything but that ugly sandwich in the morning! You're a young, growing boy, you gotta eat!”

When Tim grumbles that he's not that young, he's 18, Holly only laughs. Her laugh seems genuine this time, so he's okay with it.

After they finish off the takeout, Holly shows him her library. It’s a huge room with rows full of books. Holly says her collection has old manuscripts and modern literature – and she loves all of them equally.

“My brother would have gotten along with you.”

And Tim didn’t mean it to sound like that, but Holly’s smile disappears.

“Oh baby, no matter what I do, you're still sad.”

Tim doesn’t know what to say to that, so he settles on grabbing the closest book. It turns out to be Truman Capote’s “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”. Holly laughs at that and proceeds telling him a story about Truman Capote, a bear and a pack of cards. It’s so bizarre and specific that Tim can’t help but laugh.

In the hours that follow Tim asks her about magic. Holly tries her best to explain how she gets past magic ruining technological devices, but ends up saying that Tim will have to learn more about energies and their manipulation before he tries anything. It also turns out that navigating through the forest is possible if you can follow the streams of energies, that are different, but how different – Holly can’t exactly say.

“That’s not something one can explain with words. You gotta feel it, and that’s it. Would be easier for you to do it if you had some help,” Holly sighs. “Wait, I know! We can call for your familiar! It’s like harry-potter patronus!”

She then jumps up to look for the grimoire with a spell for it. She tells him she prefers singing the words for her spells and that Tim doesn’t have to do it, he can just say the words or even think them. Holly uses a location spell to open the grimoire on the needed page. He can’t help but grin when he understands that Holly’s singing the spell to ‘Single ladies’ tune. The book opens up on a page with fancy handwritten spell, and Holly looks at Tim seriously.

“Okay, baby. If you call for a guide, a familiar, and if someone answers – that’s it, they’re with you 'till the very end. That’s a first real step into being a witch. I need you to be absolutely sure that you want this.”

Tim doesn’t need long to consider her words. This may be his way home. Of course he’s sure.

When he nods, Holly reaches out for his hand. They hold hands over the book as Holly instructs him and to take a deep breathe and let the words carry power.

“Magic comes from necessity, desperation even,” Holly says as. “Feel the words deep in your core and call for a helper – and they will come.”

Tim concentrates on what she said, on the necessity part, but ends up more frustrated about how he can’t do much, even walk through a magical forest, on his own. Well, that has to do, because Holly starts saying the words from the book and Tim follows. She doesn’t sing but rather chants the words, most likely for Tim’s sake.

When they finish, the lights around them blink twice.

Then, absolutely nothing happens.

And maybe Tim expected some animal to manifest in blue light, but not the library room to stay unchanged, just as before. Holly tells him not to worry and leads him back to the dining room. They stay there and Holly asks him about his favorite movies and and music. Tim sees her attempt to take his mind off the unsuccessful ritual, but lets himself be dragged into a conversation anyway.

It’s getting lighter outside, and Tim is about to experience the second sunrise in one day. Which means he’ll have to leave in a few hours after it if he wants to catch the sunset on Naxos island, and he already can feel how changing time zones like this will fuck up his sleep schedule.

After he yawns for the second time, Holly promises to make him a cup of coffee in a coffeemaker Tim’s been eyeing in the kitchen. She leaves to do that and Tim spaces out while left alone in the room.

Some time after, a loud scratching sound drags him out of his daze. He looks around to find an orange cat near the big glass doors, scratching at them demandingly. Tim goes to the door, to let the cat in.

From up close, it looks even nicer – it’s fur is fluffy and seems quite pettable. Tim squats in front of the cat, trying to decide if he should ask Holly first if it’s alright to try and pet her cat. Maybe it doesn’t like to be touched?

The cat looks at him with it’s yellow eyes and, after a moment of consideration, moves closer and rubs against his legs. When Tim stretches his hand to touch the cat’s head, it starts purring like an engine. Soon Tim’s fully sitting on the floor, with the orange cat in his lap. The content purring sound it makes when Tim pets it is so soothing that he completely loses himself in it. And doesn’t notice Holly coming back.

“Heya, I brought you coffee,” she pauses for a long enough time and that makes Tim look up. There’s an amused expression on her face and it reminds Tim of Sophia. “What a charming gal you got there. Gonna introduce us?”

“This cat’s not yours?”

Tim’s genuinely surprised and is about to start apologizing for letting in a stray cat into Holly’s house, when she laughs.

“On the contrary, baby, she’s yours! Don’t you get it? You called, you got the answer.”

Tim stares at the cat in awe. It’s so hard to believe that this fluffy, purring ball of warmth is a real, magical creature. He stretches his finger to touch her on the wet nose. The cat locks gaze with him and, not stopping the purring, bites on his finger. Her teeth don’t draw blood, but Tim yelps in surprise nonetheless.

“She’s a tough cookie,” Holly laughs. “What you gonna call her?”

Tim looks at the cat that’s still lounging on his lap and keeps his hands to himself.

“Cookie,” he says.

Holly starts laughing then, and the cat looks at her, offended.

It’s time to go back and Holly insists on taking him through the forest herself, because if she loses him on the first day she won’t ever hear the end of it from the others. She also ensures him that as soon as he and his familiar get used to each other, he will be able to make the trip himself and without supervision.

So Tim leaves Holly’s house with a handful of cat and a lot of things to think about.

 

***

It takes Tim some time to get used to his new pet. Cookie is very self-reliant and comes and goes as she pleases. Tim freaks out at first, when he wakes up and she’s not anywhere in the house, but Sophia tells him not to expect the familiar to be around him all day long. They’re more partners to the witch then servants – after all, Cookie may have her own business to attend to. Tim’s not sure what kind of business a cat can have, but it’s good to know she’ll come back if he really needs her.

The day when he really needs his familiar comes soon – it’s time for his next training. Sophia tells him there’s been a change in schedule and Lif will have to miss her turn this month, because of some ‘trolls misbehaving’. This leaves him in the hands of Veda for the next training day. After his morning visit to the temple, Tim puts on a denim jacket and gets ready to leave.

“It for best,” Sophia assures him, when Tim droops his head. “Veda can teach see things you can’t see.”

“Like the spirits in the forest?”

“Like that,” Sophia says, wrapping a green scarf around his jacket’s collar. “Now, follow your familiar. Do not forget to come back for sunset – Veda tell you when.”

So Tim goes into the forest, following Cookie closely. Just like Holly before that, Cookie seems to know the way. There’s a mechanic watch on Tim’s hand that he found among Sophia’s things. He hopes it can help him track down time and not get lost with all the time zone changes.

Tim tries his best to remember the route and try to see the difference between the paths, but he’s still surprised when they exit the trees and wind up on a field full of ripe wheat. There’s a table and two chairs in the middle of the field. The table is covered with white tablecloth with fine embroidery on the sides. A full meal is on the table – apples and cider, cheese and butter, eggs, jam and loafs of bread.

Tim, who hasn’t eaten much this morning, considers taking something only for a second. Because the next moment, he remembers all fairy tales and movies where this was a very, very bad idea.

Cookie trots past the table and it’s abundance of food and Tim follows, not looking back. It’s mid-day here, the sun is high in the sky, but when they enter the trees on the opposite side of the field, it’s dark there. The forest they enter is also full of the fall colors, not at all like the one where they came from.

They make it just a few feet into the forest, when a big gray owl lands on a branch not far from Tim’s face. It hoots to them and Cookie yowls back. Tim tries and fails not to be bothered by being excluded from their conversation. Which must have been successful, because the owl turns and flies forward, with Cookie following behind. She doesn’t even turn to see where Tim is, and he grumbles, but starts after her any way.

The further they get into the forest, the darker it gets. The trees seem bigger with each step, their branches preventing any light from getting in. The ground soon becomes more marshy, and Cookie starts lagging behind, disgusted by the wetness on the ground. It takes a few more minutes of the owl hooting irritably at their slow pace for Tim to make up his mind and pick Cookie up. Her dirty paws stain his jacket but he hopes he’s not gonna get that big of a lecture from Sophia.

The further they go, the more weird the trees become. There’s a group of them that are curved, as if some huge fist punched them in the middle and they stayed like that. It also gets darker with every step they make. Tim starts noticing weird yellowish lights around them. They blink and disappear, sometimes reappearing further away, to the right or to the left. Cookie flicks her tail, following the lights with her eyes. As far as cat behavioral websites that Tim opened on the school’s computer said, this means his cat is irritated. He holds her closer and murmurs reassuringly to her.

He’s not sure how long it’s been since they started the journey in the forest and his watch is not helpful – it seems stuck, the hands not moving. But they finally get to a clearing, with smaller trees surrounding it. The tree roots are visible and, when Tim gets closer, the trees creak and the ground, with moss and roots, moves. Tim freezes looking at it – it’s as if the forest floor was breathing, with the roots and moss bringing the earth up and down. And that… That can just be the wind blowing and the roots moving due to it, right? That would be a sensible explanation, except that there’s no wind.

The owl hoots at him and Cookie, who seemed to fall asleep some time before, opens her eyes and starts purring. Tim takes a deep breath and steps over the moving roots.

The view that opens before his eyes seems like something from a horror take on a fairy tale. There’s a big, dark wooden house on long wooden poles standing over the ground. A low fence with a row or torches on top surrounds it. The house’s roof is closer to the tree tops than it is to Tim.

The owl flies up to it and lands on Veda’s shoulder. The woman stands before Tim on the porch of the house and he could swear she wasn’t there before.

“Get on!” she yells to him and goes back inside, before Tim can ask how exactly is he supposed to enter a house that’s so high up in the air.

There is no ladder or stairs, no ropes attached that he can climb. And there has to be some way up - Veda, with the limp in her left leg, has to get up there somehow, right? Or does she fly up on a broom, like witches in movies? Will he have to learn how to do that, too?

Tim imagines Red Robin swooping down on the criminals on a broom and snorts. He wishes he had his grappling gun, but he’ll have to make do with the tree nearest to the house. Climbing a tree is not the same as climbing a skyscraper, but he makes it in 10 minutes and jumps onto the porch of the wooden house. Cookie, somehow, is already there, waiting for him.

They enter the house together, and inside it’s so bright that Tim has to cover his eyes for a moment. The house is full of colors, with red, gold and green as dominant ones. There’s shelves with pottery painted with flowers, heavy leather-bound books and multiple golden kettles and pots.

“Welcome, boy,” Veda says in a voice that is not welcoming at all. “Come wash hands and eat.”

Tim had noticed her struggle with English the last time they met, so he thinks it would make sense to propose:

“We could switch to your language?”

“We?” Veda smiles a sharp smile.

“I can speak Russian,” Tim tells her.

Veda laughs at him at that, her laugh short and sharp, like a gunshot.

“It not my tongue. Russian wasn’t made yet and I were already here.”

Tim’s about to apologize but Veda doesn’t give him time to do that, patting a place on the bench at the table. A bowl appears in front of him, and Veda pours water on his hands from a jeweled jug. Instead of soap Tim is given grass blades in dark-bluish hue. As soon as the water touches the grass, it emits soapy bubbles.

“Eat,” she says, after Tim dries his hands on an embroidered towel.

The food appears on the embroidered tablecloth seemingly out f nowhere. There’s so many dishes of Eastern-European cuisine Tim feels like it could threaten the mere existence of most of the Gotham’s Russian district’s restaurants. Veda sits on the opposite side of the table, but does not touch the food.

She wouldn’t poison him, would she? Tim hopes that she won’t and starts on the food. It’s so good and somehow familiar that Tim stuffs his face with as much as he can. Through the second helping of pie he catches himself on a thought that it tastes a lot like Alfred’s food and the thought makes him stop. Suddenly, it feels bitter in his mouth and Tim pushes his plate away.

“Thank you for your generosity, but I think I’m full.”

The woman smiles one of her sharp smiles and waves her hand. The food disappears together with the tablecloth.

“Now, you have work. Come.”

Tim follows her around the house where she gives him multiple household chores, some of them include things like sorting poppy seeds. He can’t see how this is linked with learning magic but decides not to risk asking.

“You do work, I go check on my horses,” Veda says.

Tim hasn’t seen any stables nearby, but it’s too late to ask, because Veda has already left the house.

Tim stays in, doing what was asked of him, as a goddamn Cinderella. The hours trickle by quickly, and soon Veda comes back, telling him that the sun will be setting soon on his island.

“But I haven’t finished all you asked me to do?”

“Finish tomorrow. Go.”

Tim leaves and has to run through the forest to get back on time. Wind must have blown some of the clouds away, because this time he can see the path better. When he falls asleep that night, he dreams of gray shadows lurking in a dirty, muddy river.

This continues for the next two days. Tim comes to Veda’s house, washes his hands and eats, and then she leaves him alone to do the chores. He gets to the bottom of the bag with poppy seeds on the third day and somehow ends up falling asleep on the bench near it.

The dream with the river comes back, as realistic as never before. There’s fog all around him. Tim can smell the musky, rotten swamp smell in the air. There’s voices on the other side of the river. Tim thinks he can hear his Dad. There is a figure with a small yellowish light in it’s hands. It’s too far to see the face, but he can see that it’s hair is in up-do, just like his Mom’s was on the portrait down the main hall.

Voices call for him and Tim even considers following – but, before he does, a bony hand grabs his shoulder and yanks him back.

Tim wakes up. Veda’s face is uncomfortably close to his and she’s grinning. Her finders are digging painfully into his shoulder.

“Your learning over,” she announces.

“What?! But you didn’t teach me anything!”

It’s nearly impossible, but Veda’s grin widens.

“Not need to. This place teach you all. You here long enough to take all you need.”

Veda gives him a necklace, a chip of something that looks like a deep-red, shiny flat stone.

“Present. A serpent's scale” - she winks at him with her one good eye - “like your familial name.”

“Fam.. You mean like my family name?” Tim stares at the scale in his hand as the etymology of the name Drake lists itself in his mind. “Is this a dragon's scale?!”

Veda grins at him, showing off her pearly-white teeth.

“Good work. I like obedient child, you can come again.”

She clasps him on the shoulder and leads him towards the exit. When the door opens, Tim can see that the porch is on the same level as the ground. He steps down and goes into the forest, Cookie following behind.

It’s suddenly easier to see in the forest. The yellowish lights are all around, but he doesn’t look at them. There’s voices all around Tim. On a branch of an oak tree a pretty girl with long hair sits. She’s wearing a long white shirt, flowing down to her feet. There’s an oak wreath on her head and she giggles when she catches his eye. There’s more figures in floating white shirts on the trees, but Tim doesn’t stop to look. Small sniffling sounds can be heard from the bushes.

There’s two men sitting at the table in the middle of the field. One – old, tall and scrawny, with grayish skin covered in blue moss and mushrooms. Only one of his ears is visible through the curtain of long, grayish-green hair. He’s holding a loaf of bread in his long fingers that end with long, sharp nails. The other man is young, with blond, wavy hair. He’s wearing a wreath made of wheat on his head. Tim approaches them and stops for a deep bow, his hand on his heart. When Tim looks up, the young man smiles to him warmly, his eyes an inhuman blue color of the clear summer sky.

Tim walks up to the temple just in time with the sunset. He moves Orpheus around and opens the windows, but doesn’t talk. Orpheus looks at him closely and does not try to make him, opting for singing instead.

When Tim comes back to the cottage, he falls asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow.

He doesn’t dream. 

 

***

It takes Tim over a week to stop freaking out about his new ability to see and sense things hidden from others. No wonder Nik told him a lot of the villagers had seen something strange during their lives on the island – the place basically swarms with spirits. Tim wonders if there is a direct correlation between an immortal head of a half-god sitting in the temple on the hill and the variety of mysterious creatures scattered around the island. He draws a graph in his notebook and lets the familiarity of numbers sooth him.

Tim goes to the forest more now, helping Sophia carry the baskets with offerings. He insists on carrying all of them himself, because the old woman seems to get tired easily lately. It’s mid-fall now, the weather is getting colder and he wears a coat with a red scarf to the forest. Young satyrs like it’s color and always try to play with it.

He talks to Sophia about what he’s seen in Veda’s forest. She scoffs and says she doesn’t like the ‘dead people magic’ that Veda practices. But her house stands on the verge between the words, so that’s why staying there helped him see more and Sophia’s okay with it. Tim grumbles that knowing beforehand about it would have been nice, but Sophia only laughs and pats his shoulder.

Soon the time comes to go to Lif’s domain. Tim takes his favorite red scarf and a coat and goes into the forest.

This time, he doesn’t wait for Cookie to show up. Tim knows the path, not in the intellectual, mindful way of knowing, but deep down in his core. He understands now why Holly couldn’t explain it to him – he doesn’t think he would be able to, himself.

Lif meets him on top of a flat hill overlooking a wast meadow. It’s snowing and the ground is covered in a thick layer of ice. Lif waves enthusiastically at him. She is riding on a back of a reindeer, her long white hair falling on her naked chest. Lif doesn’t seem to mind the cold, only a short strip of leather is wrapped around her hips. There’s more of the faded blue tattoos on her legs. Tim blushes and tries not to stare like some kind of a creep.

“Is this your familiar?” he asks her, looking at the reindeer.

Lif nods cheerfully – today she seems to be less vocal than even usual for her.

“Mine stayed at home today. She’s smart, it’s so cold here!”

Lif nods again and smiles a small smile. Then, she slowly reaches out for his scarf and yanks it off him.

“Clothes,” she instructs him, gesturing with her hand.

Tim feels his cheeks heat up and that helps a bit with the cold.

“What, all of them?”

“Shy,” she laughs and waves her hand towards his coat. “This.”

When Tim doesn’t move, she sighs and tries to explain:

“For lesson.”

Tim reluctantly takes off his coat and hands it to her. He’s left in a shirt and pants, with thin, not at all ready for winter boots. Lif looks at him and seems satisfied with the outcome. Then she takes a deep breath and starts to talk.

“Energies are…. All around. In nature.”

Tim sees how hard it is for Lif to concentrate on the words, so he does his best to listen to every word she manages to say for his sake. Lif lifts her left hand and Tim notices that the snow doesn’t seem to stay or melt on her skin, sliding down instead as if it’s not able to touch it.

“Reach out,” she says and traces a finger down her hand. There’s ripples of light on her skin.

“Separate energy. Make it as you wish.”

Lif reaches out for his hand and holds it for a long moment. Tim can feel the energy encircling her hand – like a thin glove. It’s not solid and his fingers go through it – underneath, Lif’s hand is warm. It’s such a strange feeling. Lif lets go of his hand.

“Come to my house,” she says and points to the ground. “Follow steps.”

Lif turns her reindeer back to the direction where she came from and just. Leaves. Tim stands in the middle of a blizzard and is too shocked to yell after her. He has no other way but to start moving.

Bruce had trained all of them to withstand the cold weather, but since Tim lost his spleen his body has a problem regulating temperatures and staying warm is a challenge on a good day. What to say about a snowy day in some kind of Antarctica.

Tim was feeling cold even in his coat – now the weather’s practically unbearable. He rubs his hands together and that doesn’t help at all. Minutes pass and he’s fairly sure his lips are as blue as his fingers. Soon he starts shaking. Tim knows that in this cold, the ‘letting go’ phase of freezing will come soon and stubbornly continues walking.

He tries to do the same thing with his hands that Lif did, but his fingers won’t bend. It’s hard to think, and Tim’s almost glad, because this way he won’t be able to calculate how fast it will take for him to die.

Magic comes from desperation, Holly said. He is so fucking desperate right now.

He hugs himself with both hands and tries to remember how the sphere he unknowingly grabbed during Sophia’s ritual felt in his hand. The energy that was pulsing in his hand – isn’t it all supposed to be the same energy, just poured into a different form?

Tim breathes out and the warms in his breath collides with the cold outside, creating a cloud of fog. Tim watches it vanish and reaches out, trying to catch it with his nearly-frozen fingers. He exhales again, this time catching and pulling on the cloud of warmth. He can feel the energy prickle his fingers and just holding it makes him tired, but he can’t stop now. Tim exhales again and pulls on the warmth, redirecting the energy to move around his hands. It takes him a few minutes, but he manages to cover himself in a cloak of it.

The energy around him doesn’t give him any warmth, but it also doesn’t let any leave his body – and, well, Tim’s gonna just take what he can get. Still cold, but more mobile then before, Tim follows the trail towards a long, low house with a grassy roof. Lif opens the door for him and Tim slips inside, flopping down on the floor near and open fire. He feels the cloaking energy slip off him and doesn’t care, because instead of it Lif puts a big, warm wolf skin around his shoulders. A wooden jug with hot wine is thrust into his hand next and he drinks it without protest.

“You did good,” she says, patting his cheeks affectionately.

Lif doesn’t talk after that, seemingly having exhausted her speaking abilities for the day. To entertain him, she creates butterflies out of thin air – but, actually, now Tim understands she’s just reshaping the energies around her. When his fingers finally start bending, he touches the butterflies to get the feel of the energies fueling them.

When it’s time to go back, Tim takes the wolf skin and wraps it closely around himself – he’s not ready for any more practice yet. Lif leads him to her reindeer and pushes him to climb on the timid familiar’s back. When Tim – in awe – cautiously touches the antlers of the animal, the grin on her face maybe looks a bit like she’s amused and is indulging him, like some kid. Tim would have felt offended, but there’s no way he’s going to pass up an opportunity to ride a reindeer.

The next time Tim visits he puts on the same coat and scarf and pulls the warmth from his breath around himself, like a second skin. He gets now why Lif opted for being almost naked – it’s much easier to cover your skin without the foreign material on top of it.

After he shared the story of his day with Sophia, the woman told him that the exercise with the butterflies may be a good basic one for him. And then added, laughing, that the spell itself is has been used for centuries by cunning women, to pacify babies.

Yeah, like Holly literally calling him that didn’t give him clues to figure out that they see him as a child.

Still, he has to settle for making butterflies, at least because that makes Lif smile.

The first one he makes is a misshapen monstrosity that looks more like a crumpled piece of paper than a butterfly.

“Picture,” Lif says, knocking her knuckles on his forehead. Is this where Sophia got this annoying habit?

Lif then waves her hand and manifests a picture that looks like a 3D model of a butterfly. It turns in the air, listening to Lif’s hands, and is incredibly detailed.

“All inside,” Lif adds, pressing her palm to his forehead.

So Tim learns all he can about how butterflies work, as if it’s a piece of complicated equipment. He practices, with Lif and then at home, until he can reshape the energy into a perfect, vibrant butterfly.

The problem is, he gets completely exhausted after. When he tells Sophia about it at dinner, she shrugs.

“It need time and practice. And control of energy inside you. Wu can teach you.”

When it’s time to go to Wu’s place for the learning, Tim walks through the forest with his cat at his heel. He hopes that Cookie coming with him can show Wu that he can be a witch, too – he wouldn’t have a familiar otherwise, right?

Tim walks out of the wood located on a rocky ground. He soon realizes he’s on a lower part of a mountain and there’s a cluster of buildings on top of it. There’s other mountains nearby, covered in yellow and red trees and sprinkled with snow at the top.

The road leads Tim towards a long stone staircase. While he climbs the stairs, Cookie lounges in the hood of his hoodie – a place she started favoring as soon as it got colder outside.

When he reaches the buildings, he understands that he’s not alone here – there’s men in armor, guarding the entrance. They do not speak to him, but open the gates as soon as he approaches. It turns out that there’s really a lot of building inside – the place looks like a small town from a movie about imperial China. Actually, the place looks a little like the Forbidden City.

Wu meets him on the steps of her palace, dressed in a yellow cheongsam. Tim bows in greeting and hands her a bottle of Greek Raki that Sophia asked him to pass to Wu. The woman smiles a cold smile.

“I would rather not waste my time, let’s start with the training immediately.”

She turns around and walks away, not even looking back to see if Tim follows. They walk around the palace and Tim notices more soldiers or guards, some of them training in the further part of the property. When they enter a courtyard under the open sky, Wu brings her hand up and then swiftly back down, and her dress shimmers and turns into a costume that consists of silky shirt and pants, the uniform of Kung Fu fighters. Tim knows she’s showing off, but can’t hide his interest.

“How did you do that?”

“Restructuring of molecules. It is, in it’s core, the same gown. Atoms in the material can neither be created nor destroyed. It is probably too complicated for you, it has to do with law...”

“Of conservation of mass?”

Wu turns to him, an eyebrow raised in surprise. There’s a very small ironic smile on her lips.

“Oh, I see – you have attended a public school in your American education system,” she says, not losing the smile. “What joy.”

Tim doesn’t turn away from her intense gaze.

“It was a private school, actually. And I would be very interested if you could explain more.”

After this, training with Wu is easier – they discover that they can speak the same language of numbers and theorems. Wu draws charts and detailed diagrams and explains in a way he can understand. Then, they practice meditating together.

“Reach into your core. Follow the flow of energies through the points of power in your body. The energy moves cyclically in clockwise direction. Look deep inside yourself, and you will see.”

Tim tries to do that, remembering the points on the anatomical chart she showed him. No more then five minutes into the meditation, Wu stops him.

“You are incomplete, " she say, putting a hand on his abdomen, to the side where his spleen used to be. “There's a breach here.”

“Wow, thanks for such a sensitive, delicate way of phrasing it,” Tim snorts.

“Do not expect me to coddle you like that blonde or the barbarian do,” Wu huffs, but Tim’s sure he’s just caught a small smile on her lips. “Anyway, this is a problem. And I see you’re struggling with storing the energy.”

“Can it be why I’m so exhausted all the time?”

“It is, mos likely, the case. Come tomorrow, we will deal with it. For today, you are free to go.”

There’s a few more hours until the sun sets on the island and it’s weekend, so he doesn’t have work. Tim doesn’t want to rush back.

“May I spar with one of your soldiers?”

“Oh, you can go and ask them,” she smiles slyly.

Tim shrugs and goes to the closest group of them, the one that’s about to start training. Tim feels Wu’s eyes on his back as he approaches the soldiers. He’s not sure about the witch, but the soldiers are pretty shocked when he speaks Mandarin to them.

After the sparring – during which he had his ass handled to him more times that he would like to admit – Tim comes back home, to the island. He tells Orpheus about the day he spent with Wu, about how he should train more, because the sparring session showed him that he’s not in a very good shape.

After, he goes down to the village, to pick up goat milk from one of the women there. Sophia likes it, but lately she’s been asking him to go get it instead of her. When he gets home, he heats up a glass of milk and adds honey to it, stirring it seven times clockwise. Then he brings the glass to Sophia, who’s sitting in her favorite rocking chair in front of the big window in the living room. While Sophia drinks, Tim tells her about his visit to Wu’s palace.

“She didn’t expect me to,” Tim pauses, not sure how to phrase it. “Like, she expected me to be some dumb airhead or something.”

Sophia smiles a knowing smile.

“She didn’t bother to look at you and was surprised. What is a lesson – do not underestimate people.”

“Oh, you don’t need to tell me that, you’d only have to look at my sister. She’s short and delicate, but she can wipe the floor with me and my brothers. Probably, all of us together at once. I’ve resigned judging by appearances a long time ago. People will always surprise you.”

“That’s good,” Sophia smiles.

Tim reaches out to take the empty glass from her, but she takes his hand in hers instead. She pats his hand and holds it for a long moment.

“Go sleep,” she says finally, “Boys your age need sleep.”

Tim grumbles that he’s not a child on his way upstairs but smiles when he reaches his room.

The next day, when Tim is putting on his boots, Sophia comes down to the kitchen.

“Samhain next week,” she says. “We need to prepare for guests.”

“Uh-huh,” Tim mumbles, jumping on one leg and trying to find his second boot. “Who’s the guests?”

Sophia sighs and leans down to retrieve his boot from under the pile of other shoes.

“Someone from the coven, but not many. Everyone’s busy with their own, we get usually together for Yule. I will make Atharê, you will decorate the house. I leave the list for you on the table.”

Tim agrees and then has to run towards the forest. Today, Cookie’s already waiting for him on the other side.

“Don’t you disappear on me like the last time,” he says, swooping her up into his arms. “We’re supposed to be a team, right?”

The cat mrowls at him in agreement.

This time, Wu meets him on the lowest flight of the stairs.

“Turn around,” she says, throwing a coil of rope to him. “We’re going hunting.”

Tim puts his cat down and follows Wu to a sheer cliff. The woman starts to climb down, not even bothering to use a rope. Tim, remembering how out of shape he discovered himself to be during the sparring yesterday, opts for using the climbing rope. It’s good he still remembers how to tie it properly.

He follows Wu down and being so high of the ground makes him feel the familiar thrill. Nostalgia only intensifies when he enter a cavern. Wu manifests a light on her hand and goes deeper into the cave. There are crystals of various colors and shapes put in careful lines all over the rocks.

“I store my crystals here,” Wu explains. “We will find one for you.”

They find him a small crystal-clear piece of quartz. It’s long and pointy on one end. Wu tells him they are going to stay to meditate here today – the darkness is good for concentration. It mustn’t be the first time someone stayed here, because, when Tim turns around, he sees a large carpet covering the ground.

The hours trickle past fast, and soon he has to go. Wu tells him he can practice on his own now and gives him a scroll with handwritten instructions. Tim thanks her and is about to bow, but Wu stops him.

“I do not expect witches to bow to me,” she says seriously, but then a wry smile finds a way to her face. “Even the ones so small and uneducated as you.”

Tim’s stunned minutely by her words. Then, he smiles just as wryly.

“If you say so.”

He goes back home with a crystal in his pocket, a scroll in his hand and a big smile on his face.

 

***

The week before Samhain, or All Hallow’s Eve, comes and goes. Tim’s busy at work with the trick-or-treating party he’s organizing for the kids, busy with the preparation for having the guests in their house. Sophia’s list turns out to be a four page guideline, and Tim runs himself ragged trying to do it all.

Anyway, he’s pretty happy with the outcome – decorated with branches, flowers and candles, smelling of spice and freshly baked cookies, their house feels especially cozy. After his visit to the temple as the evening comes, Sophia shows him how to leave offering to honor the ancestors.

“Today’s not masquerade,” she tells him. “It’s a dark day, day to remember and stay safe.”

They have a nice, quite dinner and only when the clock strikes midnight someone knocks on the door.

“What’s up party people?” Marie says, as she strolls in with a bottle of sparkling wine in her hand. Ginny closes the door carefully and rolls her eyes.

“Give the bottle to the boy to open, today was a mad day and I need that drink.”

The night continues with more chatter. At some point, Sophia pulls out a deck of Uno cards – Nik gave them to Tim as a joke, and Sophia unexpectedly showed interest in the game, turning out to be quite a gambler. It takes time for her to explain to the other two how the game works. When she does, all four of them gather around the table in the living room to play. Tim wins three round in a row and is exiled from the game for suspected cheating that the women can’t prove, but are sure he’s guilty of. Tim laughs at that and leaves to the kitchen, to bring more pie.

When he returns, Ginny is sitting in Sophia’s rocking chair in front of the window while the other two are arguing over the cards. Tim joins her, taking a sit on a windowsill. Ginny looks at him through her fine eyelashes.

“Surely, this kind of celebration is far from what you’re used to.”

Tim turns to her sharply. There’s something that’s been bothering him for weeks, after Veda’s dragon necklace. He decides to confront it:

“You know who I am, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“All of you?”

Ginny shrugs, a lazy smile on her lips.

“All who bothered to look.”

“Can’t you do something about my. My situation?”

Tim knows now that the power that is not letting him say anything about it must be a one of the spell’s conditions binding him. Knowing it doesn’t make it easier.

“None of us are allowed to trifle with it. There are rules and they are for everyone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, any of you? That you knew?”

“We all have out own secrets and hidden truths, therefore we tend to be respectful to others’. After all, women taking power in their hands had always been dabbed evil, across centuries and cultures. Being a witch is a tragedy in itself. You can tell, can't you, dearie?”

Tim looks at her suggestive smile and understands that he’s going to spend a few next days in the small library and on the computer, looking for matches for what he’s heard from the witches.

“Let’s not talk of sad things,” Ginny says, taking him by the hand and leading him back to the others. “Marie, Soph, get your nasty cards away! Let’s have the boy hear how good Marie sings!”

Ginny pours wine for everyone and Marie takes out a guitar. She sings in a language Tim doesn’t know and her voice is soothing and pleasant to listen to. Once again, Tim falls asleep to Marie’s voice.

 

 

When Tim wakes up in his bed the next morning, this time he _remembers_ how he got there. That’s a good thing. In less than half a year here, he drank more alcohol than he ever had in his life. Now, he finally knows his limits and can stop himself before he oversteps them.  
Just like the last time, the kitchen is not empty when he gets there. Marie is sitting at the table, holding her head in her hands.

“Heya, kiddo, ” she says when he approaches. “You’re lucky you went to sleep when you did, because we opened my rum and it was a rough party. Not as rough as the ones we have at my place, I tell ya.”

Tim loads a double portion of coffee and waits for it to prepare.

“What’re you usually doing?”

“Killing a black goat, having an orgy on the ground sprinkled with it’s blood, you know, the usual voodoo stuff,” she shrugs and then grins, winking at him. “Can’t wait for you to visit, I’ll show you our rites!”

Tim’s brain stops with a screech. Does she mean. Like. Blood sacrifices and sex? Sex magic is actually a real thing? Is _he_ supposed to participate in all of that?

Even when Sophia comes down to the kitchen and sends him out of the house to the temple, Tim won’t stop thinking about it.

The thing is. Tim always thought of sex as this big, final and very serious step.

He’s never taken that step with anyone.

He did date great, attractive girls, but. But.

He was. No, not afraid, why would he be, right? Maybe just uneasy about it.

Because. Wasn’t he supposed to completely trust his partner? To be open?

Steph didn’t even know his name when they dated.

And, like, with someone who didn’t know he was Robin, how was he supposed to explain all the scars?

It’s not like he didn’t feel sexual attraction at all, it was just kind of more. Fleeting?

He knew for a fact that how he experienced it was different from what other people his age felt. He’s filled a few Excel sheets on his laptop with a comparative analysis.

He’d only ever gotten The Talk from Dick, and he knew even when he was 13 and clueless that Dick had a different perspective on sex than him. Dick has always been so open and free about what he wanted and who he loved. Tim wishes he could be like that.

The thing is, he’s always been okay with not having an active sexual life.

And now he was actually contemplating sex with people he didn’t even know.

Maybe they’d let him get really wasted and it’d be easier? He’s bi – will he get to choose who to be with? He knows much more about heterosexual sex than gay sex and. There’s still parts that overlap, right?

He pictures Kon on his knees before him and.

And.

And he’d better stop right there.

Thinking about Kon like that felt. Okay? No. Not okay - extremely embarrassing, but. Tim’d lie to himself if he said that he didn’t think about Kon in not exactly platonic forms after he’s discovered his attraction to him. Kon, who knew him better than most people did, who Tim trusted to carry him miles above the ground, so why wouldn’t he trust him to.

But.

It’s about time to admit Tim is afraid of letting people get close. He’s messed up.

Would Kon even want him?

What a trip of self-discovery this banishment to the island is and how absolutely and completely Tim does not want it.

In the evening, having exhausted himself with all the thoughts, he finally gathers his courage and goes to Sophia.

“I don’t think I will go to Marie’s to study.”

“Why not?”

Tim can feel his ears burning.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

“Take part in. In her. In her _rituals_.”

“What rituals?”

It takes Tim a painfully embarrassing minute to explain to Sophia why he doesn’t want to take part in rituals Marie described. When he gets the details out, Sophia starts laughing and can’t stop for the next few minutes.

“Too much movies,” she says, wiping the tears in her eyes. “Marie likes joke about what you see there about her.”

“Oh my god, this is what Ginny meant when she said about Marie’s horrible sense of humor?” Tim throws his hands in the air. “I totally believed she was serious.”

“Serious or not, no one is to make you do anything you don’t want to. Especially sex, you get it?”

“Yeah, I. Yeah.”

“Nothing wrong with not wanting it. And nothing wrong with wanting,” Sophia grins then. “Sex is good.”

“Okay can we please stop right here if you don’t mind thanks,” Tim sputters.

He knows he’s blushing. Sophia’s laughing again.

“Do we have any books on voodoo? I think I have to educate myself on what it’s really like.”

They do have books on voodoo and Tim spends the rest of the evening with them – trying not to think about anything else.

 

 ***

Tim finishes his training with Wu in the middle of the first month of winter. Christmas is just around the corner and with it, a miracle awaits him to the village – Nikos and Kiki finish their exams a week earlier this year and come back for the winter holidays. Their reunion is filled with laughter and a lot of hugs that last far too long.

After sharing all of the stories from their university days, Kiki and Nikos encourage both Tim and Nik to sneak out to the bigger neighbor island to visit a club.

“Maybe it’s not the biggest gay club in the country, but I heard great reviews from ma boys at Uni,” Kiki grins. “I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

“Mom’s not gonna let me go, ” Nik says and sighs.

“Technically, I could give you a potion that will make her sleep safe, sound and really deep,” Tim says, smiling.

Kiki and Nikos had embraced his magic learning fairly quickly so they both nod enthusiastically.

“Or we could just poison her,” Nikos adds.

Horror dawns on Nik’s face and Nikos has to backtrack quickly.

“Joking! It’s just, she doesn’t treat you right. You deserve better.”

“Thanks,” Nik says and Tim notices how he blushes.

Tim looks at Kiki, his eyebrow raised. Kiki grins mischievously in return and swings her hand around Nik’s shoulder.

“I bet Elliot’s got some clothes that will fit you. And wouldn’t mind sharing, right?”

“Sure, a change of clothes and a potion coming right up. Sleep potion , not poison potion. I’ll try not to forget.”

Tim evades Nik’s kick and leaves them to go to the temple. He’s still unsure if leaving for the whole night is wise, but Sophia persuades him that it would be okay and he would just have to be mindful of time.

So Tim changes into one of his nicer shirts, takes one of the many sleep potions he practiced to make with Sophia and packs a change of clothes for Nik. When he’s about to leave, Sophia comes up to him, her pace slow and heavy. She fusses with his clothes, straightening the wrinkles and smoothing his hair down. Lastly, the old woman fixes his shirt’s collar, her hands lingering there for a long moment.

“Go, boy,” Sophia says with a smile.

The atmosphere in the club is really great and they dance all night. Tim isn’t particularly interested in leaving his friends, even though he gets invitations to dance from others. When he returns back to Naxos, the sunrise is almost there, so he goes straight to the temple. He chatters with Orpheus happily, sharing the events of the night and laughing a lot.

When he comes back to the cottage, there’s a lone black candle that finishes burning on the kitchen table. Near it – a letter and a ring, the one he saw Sophia wear since day one and never take of.

Tim knows what happened even before he picks up the letter and then rushes towards Sophia’s room.

She lays on her bed in her favorite red skirt and white blouse, wearing the best jewelry.

She's dead.

Tim’s not sure how long he cries over Sophia’s dead body, clutching her hand. He’s just sure he has to get it out of his system before he gets to do anything else.

There’s things she says in the letter, that it was time for her to start the next reincarnation cycle and she has already outstayed her welcome and had to go. Sophia tells him not to be sad, for her soul is not destroyed – she’s just barely resting. The ring is her final gift and she’s sure Tim will wear it proudly, carrying her legacy as a talented witch. There’s also instructions on who to call from the village to take care of the body and what to do next.

The following funeral is a blur for him. There’s a procession with probably all people from the village. Four men carry the body to a remote hut on the opposite side of the island. They place it on an elevated platform in the middle of it. Flowers of various shapes and colors are put all around the body. Nik, Kiki and Nikos stay by his side and then escort him back home.

He covers the mirrors and the photos of Sophia he made. Then, falls asleep and wakes only in the evening, to go to the temple. When midnight strikes, he finds himself near the hut on the opposite side of the village, Cookie following right behind.

When he opens the doors to the only room in it, he’s somehow not surprised to see Holly and Marie there.

“The others will arrive shortly,” Marie explains before wrapping her hands around him in a short but firm hug.

Holly attaches herself to him next and Tim doesn’t protest.

“It is customary to live the witch’s body unburied for three days,” Holly explains into his ear. “The first days right after death are the most important of all. That gives the soul a right of come back if it wants to.”

“She wouldn’t want to and she’d be right,” Wu says, striding through the door. “This body is too old.”

“Could have at least waited for Yule to pass,” Ginny says next.

Veda marches in next, looks around like a general surveying her troops and scoffs. Lif follows behind her silently.

“Coven, form the circle,” Veda says finally.

Tim ends up between Holly and Lif, their hands holding his. A low chant of a simple tune flows through the circle and Tim, surprising himself, picks it up quickly. There’s no words, just the simple, rhythmical melody that seems familiar like an old song from childhood.

A flash of light follows next, encircling the hut. Lif and Holly let go of his hands and the circle dissipates. Tim watches how the others hide some kind of offerings among the flowers around Sophia’s body and realizes he didn’t bring any.

“I don’t have anything to leave,” he says to no one in particular.

“You needn’t to,” Ginny answers. “You have her ring.”

“What does that mean?”

“You have all that was hers,” Marie explains, coming to stand closer to him. “And you’re free to do with it as you wish, no strings attached. As her successor, it’s your choice.”

“House belong to you now,” Veda adds.

“And Soph’s place in the coven,” Holly says and adds softly, “If you want it.”

They’re all looking at him expectantly and all Tim wants to do is scream about how it’s not even a day since Sophia...

“There’s a spell I need to redo,” he says instead.

They let him leave and he goes towards the temple slowly, choosing the long way. When he approaches the staircase that’s leading up the cliff, Wu waits for him there.

“It is not your fault,” she starts and waves her hand dismissively as soon as he opens his mouth. “No, listen. It was time and she stretched it past the limit. She had to go and she did so peacefully, knowing you’re safe and will be cared for. Which you will be, regardless your joining or not joining the coven. You are not alone.”

Wu places her hand on his shoulder for a short moment.

“Her soul always comes back to us. All we need to do is wait,” she adds as an afterthought and turns to leave. “You will know where to find us if you’re ready.”

Tim does not wake Orpheus. He had gone with Sophia to the temple each month to see her redo the spell, so copying what she did is ridiculously easy. He cloaks himself with energy, just like Lif taught him and sits on the cliff edge. He holds the ring in his palms and thinks about Sophia, her easy acceptance and guidance. And remembers how hard moving around got for the old woman in the last few month.

He leaves his gloves, coat and scarf. He knows he needs to go to the forest.

After all, his coven is waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title - [poem ](https://starredsoul.tumblr.com/post/56485128574/ive-never-believed-in-destiny-no-the) by Emily Palermo 'I Don’t Have the Time for Destiny'
> 
>  
> 
> which I think describes Tim in a perfect way, because I wholeheartedly support the headcanon that he had to WORK for being Robin, not having any 'natural' talents for gymnastics\acrobatics and martial arts
> 
> The women in the coven are all based either on a historical figure or on a cultural\mythological historical phenomenon. You can try and guess them and let me know what you think about them!  
> (And because I did tons of research for each one of the characters but couldn't put in all of the details: Marie's headdress is called a tignon.)
> 
> This chapter took me forever to write so you're more then welcome to yell at me about it in the comments!


	9. I feel like I can’t get enough of you; like I have got a hunger I can’t quite get rid of.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon’s not exactly the type of a guy to try and put labels on his relationships.   
> But.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure there's a ton of mistakes\typos I didn't notice, but I had this goal to add a chapter before the New Year's, so here it is

It's Thursday and Kon doesn't get to the party.

There's an attack of telepathic aliens in Metropolis and he rushes there to help Clark. The worst part is – the damned things came prepared and knew of Kryptonian's weaknesses, so a Kryptonite shard gets embedded in his arm when Kon's not as fast as Superman is to dodge it. The last remnants of his Thursday are spent unconscious in one of the League's medical facilities.

So when Conner opens his eyes on Friday afternoon, he maybe freaks out a bit. Just a bit! There is absolutely zero reason for Bart, who is there when he wakes up, to rush to bring him his favorite iced tea directly from Japan.

And then the others barge in, fretting over Conner, no matter how many times he tells them he’s okay. Even Clark stops by.

“Let them have this,” Bart whispers softly, uncharacteristically somber, when Kon complains to him. “You know they have a reason to worry.”

Oh yeah. Kon has died. It’s something he tries not to think about too much. But sometimes he can’t help it, so maybe the others can’t, too.

So, begrudgingly, Conner lets the others fret and worry, while lounging for the warm sun of the Greek island. Also, it’s not like he can currently travel that far, after the Kryptonite poisoning.

A day after, when he can’t take it anymore, Kon grabs a square package, wrapped in blue and red gift wrapping paper and flies off.

A few hours later, Kon lands in front of the house on the cliff. Cookie meets him on the front steps – she goes back to licking her paw after sparing him an indifferent glance. When Conner approaches the door, he can hear voices inside it.

Oh. Elliot’s not alone.

It’s the first time there are any guests in the house, so Kon stops, unsure if he should go inside.

Cookie looks up at him, her gaze unexpectedly thoughtful for an animal. Then, she yowls – a loud, piercing sound. Elliot springs out of the house not a minute after that.

“What’s wrong?” he asks the cat, visibly distressed. Then, he sees Superboy. “Oh.”

Elliot doesn’t seem happy, why isn’t he happy to see him? Is he mad that Kon missed his party? Kon tries to smile at him, but he can tell that it looks pained. Paired with the stupid wave he does, he must look like an idiot.

“Superboy,” Elliot says, a scowl on his face. “What are you doing here?”

Oh geez, he absolutely hates Kon now ‘cause he’s missed the party!

“Are you mad at me?” Conner knows he sounds choked.

“What?” Elliot’s eyes widen comically, and Kon would’ve laughed if not for the fact that the guy must hate him now. “Of course I’m not! It’s just, I saw the news reports about the attack in Metropolis, I was so worried! Should you even be flying this far, so soon after?”

Elliot was worried about him. Elliot cared enough to check the news.

Kon grins so wide his cheeks kinda hurt.

“I’m peachy, promise!”

“I’m glad,” Elliot says softly, and there’s some kind of emotion in his eyes that makes him look all warm and gentle and it makes Kon want to shiver but also reach out to take his hand.

Before he does any of that, a woman appears behind Elliot, stepping to stand by him. She’s wearing simple blue pants paired with a jacket and a stripey t-shirt. There’s a string of pearls around her elegant neck. The pants are tight and show off her absolutely stunning legs. Her long hair’s the same dark shade as Elliot’s. There’s a knowing smile on her deliciously red lips and Conner can’t stop looking. Without mentioning that Kon had always had a thing for older women, she’s also so fucking beautiful that he _gapes_.

“Oh, what a lovely surprise you got here, dearie,” the woman says, smiling a wide, welcoming smile. “Would you mind introducing us?”

She puts a hand on Elliot’s shoulder. Elliot shifts uncomfortably.

“Ginny, meet Superboy. He’s my friend.”

“Friend? Isn’t that _nice_ ,” Ginny says, her voice getting low and sweet, like honey, on the last word. “Do you remember what I told you when we were in London, dearie?”

Elliot, for whatever reason, blushes.

“I am _not_ asking, _auntie_.”

Ginny smiles sweetly at Conner and then winks. Kon feels like he’s about to start blushing, too. Oh, and he also hasn’t said anything yet. The woman doesn’t seem to mind, because she strolls closer to Kon, putting her perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder for a second.

“What I’m saying is that we went shopping while he was visiting me in London and let me tell you, I do not always approve of his taste,” she smiles at Kon, as if this is supposed to explain anything. “Anyway, I gotta go and leave you boys alone. Ciao, dearie!”

Ginny continues past Kon, turning towards the forest down the hill. She’s wearing high heels, but that doesn’t slow her down.

Elliot huffs, frustrated and rubs his cheeks as if that can make the blush go away. Kon sighs, following Ginny with his eyes. The spot on his shoulder she touched feels like it’s on fire – nice, warm fire Kon wouldn’t mind burning in. Elliot nods to the door and Kon follows him inside the house. There’s a half-finished box of chocolates on the table and two empty mugs. While Elliot cleans up, Superboy clears his throat.

“So, she your aunt?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Your aunt’s smoking hot,” Kon states. Then, adds with a cheeky grin. “Can I get her number?”

One of the cups slips out of Elliot’s hand, but he catches it quickly.

“I don’t think she’d be interested, she has a fiance,” he deadpans. “I have more aunts if you’re interested.”

Okay, now Elliot sounds angry. Shit, Kon probably shouldn’t have joked like that about his relative.

“I’m joking!” he says, putting his hands up. “Sorry, that must have sounded gross to you, she’s your aunt, after all.”

“Yes,” Elliot says, half- turning to him, his mouth in thin line. “That is the reason why.”

They lapse into an awkward silence while Conner’s mind scrambles frantically to find a topic for conversation.

“I, um. D’you really have more aunts?”

“Yeah,” Elliot sighs. “Six of them, including Ginny.”

“Wow, your family’s really big!”

Elliot hums noncommittally, but he looks much less pissed than before. This seems like the best opportunity for Kon to hand Elliot the square package he’s brought with him.

“So, em, happy belated birthday! Hope you like my gift!”

Elliot takes it from his hands, blinking sheepishly.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, even though he’s smiling. “But thank you!”

Kon grins back at him.

“Well, this gift is _a kind of magic_.”

“Ugh, I really hoped you’d be out of magic jokes by this point,” Elliot groans. His hands still when he finally manages to tear the paper off the gift. “Oh. This is literally ‘A kind of magic’ by Queen.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just stands there and stares at the record in his hands. It’s too long and Kon feels antsy without the reply. As he usually does when nervous, Superboy starts babbling.

“Um. I. I noticed you have like a few vinyl records? And thought you might use another one? Is, Is this okay?”

Elliot turns to him with a big, bright smile that makes laugh lines appear in the corners of his eyes.

“Of course it is. I _love_ it.”

Kon sighs in relief and grins, too.

“Oh, so I guessed right, you like listening to _ancient_ stuff.”

“ABBA is a classic and will not be disrespected in this house,” Elliot says, pointing an accusing finger at him. He’s still smiling, though.

They spend the next hours together. Kon’s eating the leftover cake while Elliot tells him about the party and shows the photos. The girl on the photo he’s seen, the one with the leather jacket, is named Kiki and Conner feels an enormous relief when Elliot says she’s his friend.

Emphasis on how it’s _friend_ and not _girlfriend_.

Even though Elliot has introduced him to his aunt as a _friend_ , too, it still gives Superboy hope.

Especially when Elliot hugs him goodbye, thanking for the gift. Conner has to fly off quickly after that and the shape of Elliot’s body and it’s warmth pressed against him stays in Kon’s mind for days after.

The thing is – it’s not a rare thing lately. Elliot has somehow managed to crawl into his head and won’t leave. Kon thinks about him when he wakes up and when he goes to sleep. Sometimes, more vividly, when he’s in the shower.

Kon’s not exactly the type of a guy to try and put labels on his relationships. But. He’s so confused about what’s happening between him and Elliot.

Are they friends? ‘Cause they bicker and laugh like all friends do, and they fell into a well-practiced routine of it in such a short time.

Could they maybe be more than that? There’s been a few moments when Elliot’s been a bit flirty with him. But, did he really mean it like that?

There’s been much more when Kon himself had tried to say something suggestive, but Elliot mostly brushed it off or didn’t seem to notice. He’s thought that Elliot was hot starting from day one – all that lean body with toned muscles hiding underneath his clothes. But. There’s this difference between thinking that someone is hot and thinking about them while going to sleep and waking up.

It’s gotta mean something, right?

Kon’s been with guys before, so, in terms of sex, he knows about a lot of things that he wants. About dates, especially if he wants more than one to happen – not so much.

He decides to talk to Bart.

Bart is his best friend, after all.

To make sure Bart will stay with him in the common room long enough for Kon to say all he wants to, Superboy gathers all the food from all the food stashes he can find in the Tower. Then, he shares this completely hypothetical situation about him completely hypothetically liking this specific guy, so what should Kon do?

“Just ask him out on a date.”

“What if he doesn’t want to?”

“Then don’t go on a date.”

“Bart, you’re not helping!” Kon snaps. “I mean, what if he doesn’t want to go on a date and won’t want to talk to me after I ask? ‘Cmon, man, you have a boyfriend, you gotta tell me how you did it!”

“No two people are the same, you can’t just copy what someone else did and expect it to work!”

It was unsettling to see sometimes, how much Bart has changed and grown over the years.

“When did you become so wise?” Kon sighs.

“Uh, duh,” Bart says, between stuffing pizza in his mouth and drinking Zesti. “Always was.”

Then, Bart pushes the last scoop of ice-cream towards him.

“But seriously, if you still don’t understand what’s going on between the two of you, it’s better to wait and see. Gotta give it time.”

Bart pats him on the head and zips away, and Kon’s left with as much confusion as before.

 

***

 

Next time Superboy lands in front of the house on the island, it’s late night. He’s just seen this funny video on YouTube and, ‘cause Elliot does not have a phone like an old man that he probably secretly is at heart, it’s Kon’s duty to share and educate. Conner perks up to the light visible in the house – it means that Elliot’s still up. But then he stops dead in his tracks.

There’s someone in the house. Kon can hear their voice even if the can’t catch the words because he’s solely focused on one thing – there’s only one heartbeat.

There’s only one heartbeat and it’s Elliot’s.

Elliot, who’s answering to that strange voice with:

“The pleasure was all mine, my lord.”

Kon can feel an odd, heavy presence in the air. It won’t let him move.

After Elliot told him about his involvement in witchcraft, Kon read a Wikipedia page on witches. Among other things, it said that in the Middle Ages, the witches were accused of ‘consorting with demons’ and were often called ‘Devil’s concubines’.

So, quick question – who the fuck is Elliot calling ‘my lord’ and why?

The next moment, heavy feeling leaves Kon’s chest and he hears Elliot sigh a tired, long sigh. Then, the sound of rustling fabric follows and something clanks against top of the kitchen’s table. Finally able to move, Conner rushes towards the room where he can hear him.

Elliot’s alone in the room and, when he notices Kon, they both freeze, staring at each other. Because the get-up that Elliot’s wearing would rather be appropriate in the theater on stage or somewhere a few centuries ago. His pants are skin-tight, a white old-timey looking shirt is tucked into them. He’s wearing knee-high boots, ridiculous at the end of summer. A short black cape he must have worn is thrown over one of the chairs. Elliot is most likely aware of how odd he looks, because he kinda tries to hide behind the kitchen table. Kon breaks the awkward silence first:

“Man, did you rob a museum?”

“Hi to you, too, Superboy,” Elliot says, screwing his pretty face in an irritated scowl. “No, I didn’t rob anything.”

“What’s all of this, then?” Conner asks, gesturing at all of him.

Kon would really, really like to laugh at this, if not for the fact that these ridiculous clothes made Elliot look extra hot. The guy must look really good in a modern suit. Kon suddenly has a strong image in his head of Elliot in a suit. It's weirding him out, because usually his imagination shows him more... clothes-less images.

“There was a masquerade. Kinda party? More or less. It’s magic stuff, you’re gonna be bored if I start telling you.”

Elliot looks uncomfortable, but Kon can’t stop himself from asking:

“Did you go with your aunts?”

“Oh, no, we only get together for Yule. It’s gonna be in winter. This was more of a. Well, like returning a favor? There’s someone who asked me to go as his escort, because he couldn’t attend without a pair and didn’t have anyone to take. I agreed, ‘cause there was a moment I had nowhere to go and he helped me a lot. Even the place here, on the island, I have thanks to him.”

Elliot looks sad, so Kon decides to change the subject:

“You hungry?”

“It was a harvest festival, plenty of food there. You mind if I go change?” Elliot makes a face. “These pants are itchy.”

“I think I’ll manage on my own for a minute,” Kon laughs. “I can make you something to drink then?”

Elliot nods and sprints up the stairs, most likely towards his room. Kon makes pulls out two glasses pours the ice tea he found in the fridge. He puts them on the table and then notices a small black mask. It’s a bird mask, with a small beak where nose should be. Kon strokes the black leather of it while waiting for Elliot to get back.

The guy appears in the kitchen 15 minutes later, his hair wet and clothes smelling like clean laundry. He takes the glass from Kon’s hands and downs it in seconds.

“So what do you people do during the harvest festival?” Conner asks conversationally.

Elliot shrugs.

“You know, the usual – dancing, singing, doing some simple harvest rituals...”

“Sacrificing virgins,” Kon adds in the same dull tone.

Elliot looks at him with a disapproving look in his eyes.

“When they say ‘virgin blood’, it’s actually ‘blood that hasn’t been previously used in rituals’, so, just something fresh.”

“Really?” Kon smirks. “Tell me more.”

“ _You_ tell me why you’re here at this hour! It’s the middle of the day where _you_ live, don’t you have better things to do?”

This reminds Kon about why he came here in the first place.

“Oh, yeah, so I saw his video and thought I had to tell you!”

Kon proceeds telling him about the video. They take a sit on the couch and they sit so close, their thighs pressed together, but not one of them tries to move away.

 

***

 

Conner can’t stop thinking about the ‘had nowhere to go’ comment Elliot let slide. He keeps telling him about his family, which seems to grow by the minute – there’s a bunch of brothers, a grandfather, now – half a dozen aunts. So how the fuck did _that_ happen?

And, more importantly, why there’s no guides about how to gently ask about someone’s tragic past?

Kon even considers asking Cassie about it, but dismisses the thought quickly – asking his ex partner about his hopefully future partner sounds extremely awkward. Cassie deserves better than listening to his romantic failures.

And since when exactly did Kon start viewing Elliot like that?

Oh god, he’s gone-gone-gone for that guy.

In fact, he’s so far gone, that one evening he tries going to sleep in his room in Smallville, only to rush up up and away to the island.

Because, okay, he’s gonna sound like a total creep, but he now kinda knows how to find Elliot’s heartbeat. He listens to it while falling asleep sometimes and it calms him down, it’s simply therapeutic, see?

Except that today, Elliot’s heartbeat is going _bananas_.

Kon rushes into the house to find Elliot passed out at the kitchen table. His heart rate is insanely high, and, when Conner approaches him, he understands why – Elliot’s face is flushed with fever. Kon touches his forehead to confirm – and yes, Elliot’s body temperature is surely higher that normal for humans. Also, his clothes are drenched with sweat. Kon sets out to carefully wake him, gently shaking him by the shoulder.

“Hey, hey there, c’mon, wake up!”

It takes a painfully long minute, but Elliot opens his eyes. He looks around, unfocused.

“Yep, that’s it,” Kon says gently, supporting him – because, apparently, even sitting up is a struggle for Elliot right now. “You got a medkit somewhere around here? Or I could take you to a hospital, I think you’re sick.”

“'m fine,” Eliot says weakly.

“You're not goddamn fine! You're hot!”

“Am I?” Elliot says playfully, but his smug smile is kinda spoiled by the feverish shine in his bloodshot eyes.

“Goddamn, dude, I’m serious for this once, you’re burning up!”

“Oh,” Elliot says and shivers. “That explains why it feels so cold here.”

“You gotta change and take some meds,” Kon explains patiently. “Lemme help you to the couch.”

“I can,” Elliot starts and tries to get up, nearly face-planting the next second.

Kon catches him and flies him to the couch in the part of the first floor Elliot insists on calling ‘the living room’. Then, he dashes around the house, gathering a handful of blankets and dumping them all on top of Elliot. Then, he gets a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from the freshly done laundry.

“Okay, you gotta change ‘cause your clothes are drenched in sweat. I can help if you’re okay with it?”

Elliot nods and sneezes loudly. Kon starts with his pants and, no matter how fast he tries to be, the brief contact of naked skin with air makes Elliot shiver. He doesn’t stop shivering even when Kon pulls on the sweatpants and moves to peel off the t-shirt.

“How the fuck did this happen?”

“Was a storm yesterday. Didn’t think wind was _that_ cold? Stayed out late, near water. Helping. Boats.”

After the last word, Elliot’s words turn into incoherent mumbling, but, at least, he’s awake. When Kon finally pulls off his t-shirt and takes a look at Elliot’s torso, his thoughts come to a crashing halt.

Elliot’s upper body is littered in scars, much like his legs. Conner has known about it, but he hadn’t seen a wide, ugly scar standing out visibly on the left part of Elliot’s stomach, doing up in an uneven, broken line. Kon can’t help but touch the line, his heart clenching painfully at the thought of an injury and pain that the guy must have felt. Elliot shivers violently and Kon pulls down the fresh shirt, covering him with two more warm blankets for good measure.

“I don’t have a spleen,” Elliot whispers hoarsely. When Kon looks at him, horrified, he adds. “There was. An accident.”

Elliot doesn’t have a spleen. Elliot doesn’t have an organ that’s, like, important for humans, right?

_Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck_

Okay, panicking about it will have to wait for later, doing something for the fever has to be _now_.

“Is there a doctor in the village? I can go get them in a sec.”

“No need to,” Elliot says, his teeth chattering. “But, can you do something else?”

“Anything!”

“Make a potion for me. ‘S not hard, don’t need magic, just, do as I say.”

Kon decides not to argue and follows Elliot’s explanations while looking for ingredients in the kitchen. It’s good that they’re on the same floor and Elliot doesn’t have to strain his voice and yell the instructions at him. So Kon takes out a cauldron, some herbs and weird twisted roots, and gets to work.

“And Kon?” Elliot adds, his voice barely above a whisper. “Think about something good, ‘kay?”

Conner has no idea how he’s supposed to think about something good when just a dozen feet away Elliot’s heart is beating like crazy, trying to accommodate his feverish body, his breathes shallow and raspy. But he tries, he really does, because Elliot asked him to.

A weirdly specific amount of stirring later, Kon lets the liquid simmer on the stove, pouring it into a cup only 7 minutes after. The liquid smells like berries – probably the ones he’s added to the potion. Additionally, Kon finds a cloth and pours cool water into a bowl, adding a few spoons of vinegar to it – just like he saw Ma did for Pa when he was sick last time. Conner sits by Elliot’s side and puts the cold washcloths on his forehead. Elliot shivers so hard his whole body shakes.

“It’s okay, it’s alright,” Kon whispers, holding him down, the way he would to an injured animal on the farm. “Drink this, please?”

Kon holds a cup with the potion to Elliot’s lips and he can’t even get up on his own. Seeing Elliot in such misery makes Conner’s heart ache.

“Do you want something, anything?”

“Wanna call D… My brother, could always call him no m’ttr ‘ere,” Elliot’s words slur.

Superboy perks up at something to do.

“Great, let’s do that, I’ll get a phone!”

Kon’s ready to go _steal_ a phone from someone in the village if that’ll make Elliot happy, but instead, the guy adds:

“No, ‘s stupid, he won’t talk to me anymore.” after some consideration, Elliot adds softly. “And I want my Dad.”

Conner’s heart breaks all over again at that mournful admission, so he settles on stroking Elliot’s wet hair and cheeks.

A few tears roll down his cheeks when Elliot’s eyes flutter shut - either because of the fever or something else.

“I won’t go anywhere,” Conner promises softly. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Slowly but steadily, Elliot’s heart rate slows down to a normal one and the fever reduces, bit by bit.

True to his words, Kon stays by his side ‘till the sun starts to go down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- chapter title form r.i.d. [link](https://unluckyloki.tumblr.com/post/184455465078/oh-man-you-make-this-sound-when-you-are-half)
> 
> real sorry for the people who were waiting for Kon to meet the Q Squad - that's not gonna happen any time soon
> 
> also, are there any official panels with Tim's splenectomy scar? I've only seen fanarts and when I was googling for this chapter, I found out that they're wrong? They usually draw it on the lower part of abdomen, but it actually should be much higher? So, if someone knows any canon info, please, share!


	10. A ghost at the supermarket of a boy who’d been in her high school class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Constantine has always made it to the Fair – every year, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch my poor attempt at imitating John speak, hope it's not too awful

Fair o’ Fairs is an annul affair.

John Constantine has always made it to the Fair – every year, no matter what.

He had missed it only once, and the year that followed was such a disaster he never dared to do it again.

Considering the evidence, Fate was pissy at him at best, he didn’t want to tempt it even more.

So that’s why he’s at the Fair now, walking around the marketplace.

It’s in a clearing in the woods, as it usually is. The tents and tables are full, the vendors are yelling over each other.

The goods on sale are plenty – love potions, bottles with a drop of beauty, canned kind deeds, curses and death on an end of a pine needle.

True Heart’s Desires had gone up in price and some lassie with pointed ears was vigorously arguing with the seller.

There are things up in the trees not meant to be seen, even though he knows they are there.

Getting to the Fair o’Fairs this year was a pain in the arse, but at least he can re-fill his stock of dream mushrooms with the best kind. He also considers buying food, but one of the closest food wagons seems to be suspiciously popular with trolls, which means the food there promises future food poisoning to any other species.

In search for another food wagon, more suitable for humans, John walks by the tables filled with multicoloured goods. The Fair is shaped like a big circle and the rows are in a form of a spiral. Following the curves of the path, he is getting closer to the centre.

There’s a commotion on the way – a crowd gathered, people and demons, trolls and ogres, vampires and fairies whispering lowly to each other. When John approaches the crowd and tries to understand what’s going on, an old woman with lucky charms tied to her dreadlocks explains to him, her voice proud:

“The Queen is coming this way.”

And then all conversations stop.

There is a woman walking gracefully down the spiral, to the marketplace’s centre. She’s wearing a long black dress and a red shawl on her shoulders, a colourful scarf wrapped around her head.

Some bow, some look away.

She accepts it all with an easy grace and an air of such dignity that there is no doubt to her queen title.

John bows, too. He’s not too proud and not at all ashamed to.

Because, there’s things a bloke gotta keep clear of, okay?

That’s the sodding Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau.

She’s held the title for the last two centuries and, if even a part of the rumors about her powers is true, she will keep it for more and then some.

Being disrespectful to her is a good thing to keep clear of.

Suddenly, a girl – no older than 5 – runs up to her. She’s dressed in a lace white dress, just like a porcelain doll, her hair’s braided in a lot of small braids.

“Ma chérie, here you are!” the Queen says. It’s the first time John sees her this close and hears her voice. Her accent is French, which should not be surprising considering when and where she was born. “What you got there for mama?”

The girl nods and outstretches her hand towards the Voodoo Queen. There’s a bird in her fist, beating against her fingers frantically.

A boy, probably a teen, steps from behind Marie Laveau. He switches all of the bags he’s been carrying to his right hand and covers the girl’s fist with his left. He whispers something to the girl and she nods to whatever he says, releasing the bird. It’s a red cardinal.

Then, the girl lifts her hands in the universal childish gesture that means she wants to be picked up. The boy looks back at the Queen. Marie Laveau nods in approval and continues her walk down the road. The boy follows, with the little girl held securely on his left hip.

The boy might be a valet – John didn’t pay attention to him at first.

Except that he should’ve, because, first of all, the boy is white.

The crowd comes alive again, filling the air with buzz of conversation. John loiters around, listening to the freshest local gossip. There’s an old hag with warts all over her hands telling the others how Marie, who the hag assures is an old and close friend of hers, presented the boy as her _nephew_. The hag’s audience laughs at that.

John’s never heard of anyone in the Voodoo Queen’s escort to be white.

John, however, has heard of the Queen’s very intimate interest in young boys.

But, with all the rumors, it’s hard to know if it’s true. This is why Constantine has a problem keeping in touch with the magical community – it goes bonkers for gossip.

Carefully, John creeps after the procession, following the Queen and her escort towards the gate in the middle of the marketplace. She stops near a few more stalls, looking at the amulets displayed there. He keeps staring at the white boy beside her. He looks normal, like a center of London kind of teen normal – jeans, denim jacket and shiny trainers. His hair’s black. From the tear in one of the tent’s walls John’s observing from, he can see that the teen’s eyes are blue. His face seems familiar.

The little girl’s still in the boy’s hands. She looks up, her face emotionless. John’s sure that she is looking at him, even though it’s hard to tell – her eyelids are white.

He’s heard about them, the Haitian coffee girls. There was a war for them, between their former owner and the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. After the first witch died, the Queen got the girls.

The boy turns his head a bit and John’s not sure why or what prompts it, but he recognizes him.

And swears, loudly enough for the vendor in the nearby tent to give him the stink-eye.

Why for the love of fuck would Batman send one of his Robins to infiltrate Voodoo Queen’s ranks? Without consulting with _him_ first?

What the oh-so-fucking-greatest-detective even wants with the most powerful witch of her kind?

What kind of an undercover sodding shitshow is this?!

Constantine’s fuming and he barely registers where his legs take him in his anger. Soon enough, a line of portals behind him, he pushes open the door of Wayne Manor.

“You, soddin’ son of a bitch! What, you wank off to givin’ yerself the right to interfere with the magic people?”

The Batman is Bruce Wayne now and is about to have dinner. This doesn’t stop Constantine at all.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” the bastard has the audacity to answer.

“Bollocks!” John yells, not as calmly. “Why the fuck is your Robin in Marie Laveau’s escort?”

Batman blinks at that. John can actually see him being confused, but it lasts for a second only, maybe less.

“Robin?” Batman repeats.

Maybe because John has actually worked with the fucker, or maybe because this is about one of his precious kids, but Constantine can sense a distant alarm in the man’s voice.

“Yes, one of your dozen kids, dunno his name – like I care to remember all of ‘em.”

Batman does not raise to the bait and goes straight to the main question.

“In Robin, do you mean Damian? That’s my youngest one?”  
“The one they call a kid-demon or somethin’? Nah, not that one. Ain’t it there one that was before? The scrawny lad?”

Visible doubt passes Batman’s face.

“Jason? The one who’s Red Hood now?”

“The one that died? Nah, not that one, the one that was after.”

“You mean Damian?”

John looks closely into the fucker’s unrelenting face. It lasts for a long moment, and, honestly, he's already past the fury territory and has entered the phase of cold, focused rage.

“Keep your fucking secrets, I don’t want ‘em. Just don’t come crying to me after your kid is skinned alive for getting in over his head.”

Batman shrugs.

“Would you like to stay for dinner to discuss my kids more, so you’d see I’m not actually keeping any of them secret?”

“Sod off!”

John makes sure to lift his middle finger to underline the refusal to the fucker’s face as he leaves the Manor.

There’s no way he was wrong. The kid at the marketplace was Robin, which one – who the fuck knows, there’s been so many and they changed so fast John never felt invested enough to make an effort to distinguish them. And Batman can stuff his pretense that he knows nothing about it where the sun does not shine.

Constantine’s too tired of his shit. He’s not gonna bother anymore.

***

The next morning, the weekly family breakfast is held in Wayne Manor. While they are preparing, Bruce tells Alfred about John Constantine’s strange words yesterday.

The whole family is there. Even Kate attends this time.

And Alfred puts an extra plate on the table. He cleans it up as soon as everyone takes their sits and it becomes apparent that it’s out of place.

Alfred’s not getting younger, Bruce muses. He ought to force him take more days off.

Still, there’s something wrong stirring in his stomach when he’s looking at the empty place.

Well, he’s probably just hungry.

They begin the meal together and Bruce doesn’t think about the plate or John Constantine’s unprompted visit anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title form a poem that makes me cry - by Keaton St. James [poem ](https://unluckyloki.tumblr.com/post/184455499898/your-mother-claims-she-saw-a-ghost-at-the-super)
> 
>  
> 
> as far as I know, John Constantine didn't have much interactions with the Robins, so this is why I'm assuming he doesn't know them by names or care to remember much about them except the general impression
> 
> wow, this is the 10th chapter, so I would also like to say a HUGE thank you to all of you who had been reading this! Your kudos brighten my day, I've re-read all the comments more than once and and you bet I know all of my regular reader's names.  
> ♡ all of you!


	11. oh no. oh no. pardon my appearance i’m trying to remodel. we’re in the back scrambling around trying to dump feelings out of windows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon is going to ask him out.  
> Or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, the beginning of this year was insane for me. I had no time to do anything and only now am I re-starting to write regularly. So please, bear with me! But be assured, I am not leaving this fic be.
> 
> Now, get ready to read fluff and angst. Or angst and fluff.  
> Whatever, there's both.
> 
> *update - fixed some typos*

In the begging of fall Dream visits the island again. Tim hasn’t seen him since the Harvest Masquerade he attended as his plus one. It has been more fun than he expected, except the part when Kon found him in his house wearing the Masquerade 18-century style outfit. The look Superboy gave him was so odd, Tim all but fled to his room to change.

Okay, maybe thinking about Kon isn’t the best idea now - Dream looks way too solemn and Tim’s heart drops.

“Lord Dream,” Tim greets, having to crane his neck to maintain eye contact with the imposing figure.

“Priest, ” Dream says in a cold, toneless voice. “I need to talk to my son.”

And Dream never does that. He’d said so before – something about a promise to never enter the temple. Tim doesn’t know what this means, so he nods and gestures towards the temple, but does not follow Dream. Tim does not think he will appreciate the company.

There’s a girl with messy red hair that came together with Dream, but drifted away from him, muttering to herself softly. The 80s monstrosity of a white jacket she’s wearing dwarfs her, being probably at least tree sizes too big. She looks to be around Tim’s age – even though Tim knows in his core that it can’t be true. The girl stays outside, settling down on the ground with a handful of cherries. Red juice trickles down her chin while she mutters an old children's rhyme under her nose, giggling to herself. She pays no attention to Tim.

It doesn’t take long for Dream to finish whatever conversation he had with Orpheus. When he emerges from the temple, he seems smaller, as if he’s shrank on himself. His face is carefully blank and Tim wishes he would stop thinking about how Bruce’s face becomes just like that in the moment of utmost and inescapable crisis.

Dream walks by Tim without paying much attention to him and helps the red haired girl up. Tim listens in, pretending to busy himself with cleaning a window outside the temple. They talk about their brother and Tim figures out that the girl is another of Dream’s sisters. Dream says something about Orpheus making him promise to do something for him and that Dream does not want to do it, and leads his sister away.

When he’s sure that the other two left, Tim enters the temple to light the candles there. Sun has already set, and, usually he leaves at about this time. He doesn’t think he will be able to leave any time soon today . Tim waits for Orpheus to start the conversation and his patience pays off.

“Was there someone else outside with my father ?” Orpheus asks softly.

“There was a young woman, short and skinny, with read hair. She was talking to herself a lot? I think your father called her his sister.”

“Oh. My aunt, then. There are more of them. Has anyone told you what they are – my father and his siblings?”

“No. Not really.”

“There were seven of them once. The Endless. The ones who arose with the universe and will go with it when it breathes it’s last breath. They are not gods – they are above that. Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Despair, Desire and Delirium. I am inclined to assume you have seen the latter.”

“ Why ‘were’? What happened? ”

“ Things change. Even someone like them changes . Even if it seems slow, everything does . ”

There’s a storm in Orpheus’ eyes. Tim tries to think up what to say, but Orpheus beats him to it.

“ I do not wish to be alone tonight. Would you. Stay? ”

“ Yes. Yes, of course. ”

Tim stays the night. Orpheus drifts off to sleep at one point, but it doesn’t last long. Tim sits on the floor near the wall, facing him. When Orpheus sings, it’s soft and unbelievably sad.

Something big i s about to happen and it twists in Tim’s gut like a knife.

He does not get any sleep at all .

When the dawn breaks, Dream and his sister return. There’s a commotion near the door – a voice Tim thinks must be the sister pleads to be let into the temple, Dream arguing against it. The girl ends up persuading him to let her do it, and so she pops in, bobbing her head.

“Orpheus?”

Her voice sounds like falling apart feels. Orpheus smiles weakly, but it does not reach his eyes. Tim slowly stands up from the floor, not sure what to do, trapped at the wall near the table.

“Hello, my aunt.”

“You look like. Um. Like you used to only different. Well, I just came to say, ” she stops suddenly, her eyes on Tim.

From this close, Tim notices that her eyes are two different colors that glimmer and shift like paint water in an artist’s cup. Then, her eyes still on him, she pouts.

“Why is he allowed to have a full person here and I can’t bring in my doggo? ”

“Delirium! ” Dream reprimands.

Tim recognizes the weariness in his voice from the way Dick addressees them sometimes. Delirium must be Dream’s younger sister. He enters after her and the temple, suddenly, feels very crowded.

“I’ll go,” Tim says, his shoulders stooping.

“My priest,” Orpheus calls for him, his voice soft an d on the verge of fragile. That makes Tim turn around. “Timothy. Thank you. I wish you all the best of luck.”

Tim wants to pretend like he doesn’t understand what this means. Like he doesn’t understand what’s about to happen.

Instincts and training ingratiated in his muscles scream at him to _stay_ and _protect_ .

Tim nods to Orpheus and then looks up at Dream.

There’s something horrible stewing in his starry eyes. It feels like the Sun going supernova. It feels like a black hole. It feels like guilt and dread and grief.

Tim leaves the temple hastily, joined by Delirium.

The girl grabs his hands, dragging him away from the temple doors and closer to the cherry tree. Tim’s hands are so cold he can barely feel his fingers.

“I’m Delirium,” she says and her words stream like an uneven, wild and bumpy river. “And I’m hungry but I don’t like roses they smell nice but they sting. Oh, speaking of which, this is my new doggie, Barnabas !!”

Despite her senseless words, her eyes do not shift but stay the same color, looking at him, searching for something. She mumbles something more and only a few minutes after let s go of his arms, turning her head to the right.

Dream exits the temple.

He looks defeated, deflated, his eyes half empty and half insane.

His hands are dripping red.

Where the blood drops fall, red flowers arise. A trail of them leads towards the cherry tree, following Dream’s bare feet. They’re all over the ground and Dream’s standing in a patch of red flowers like in a pool of blood.

“You did it, didn’t you? ” Delirium asks softly .

“It was….what he wanted. His life…and death...were always his own,” Dream mumbles, his voice broken. “If I could have lived his life for him, my sister...”

Tim has to step aside at that, trying not to listen to the conversation. It’s a family matter, after all.

While he busies himself with finding flowers for Joanne Constantine’ s grave, another woman joins the conversation with the other two at the cherry tree. She’s obese and round, her skin grayish, hair pulled up in a dirty bun. She’s also completely naked.

Dream vanishes first, which is understandable. Delirium follows not long after, taking her dog with her. The large woman stays behind and looks towards Tim. Despite her size, she manages somehow to reach the place where he’s standing in mere seconds.

“I know you, ” the large woman says and smiles an ugly, ragged smile full of pointed teeth .

There’s an overly sweet, rotting smell coming from her. Tim thinks back to Sophia covering mirrors from him, back then, when he was at his lowest.

“I think I know you, too,” he says.

Despair of the Endless leans down to pick up a flower. It’s as red as the blood that’s dripping down her face, from a gash on her forehead. It looks fresh.

“Oh, my twin would have loved you. So many things _hidden_ and _repressed_ ,” Despair says. “Pity I can not bring _you_ to them– only this flower.”

Almost as an afterthought , she adds:

“My brother sent this.”

Despair opens her palm and blows something that looks like sand off. It gets into Tim’s eyes but does not sting. Instead, he is met with an image of Dream. His voice tells Tim to bury Orpheus, thanks for his service and tell him to do with the temple as he pleases.

When Tim opens his eyes, Despair is nowhere to be found.

So, he goes to the temple and wraps Orpheus’ head in a silk tablecloth. He cradles the bundle in his arms while he walks back to the cherry tree.

Tim buries Orpheus there and leaves no markings, just as Dream asked.

Red flowers litter the ground all around the new grave. Tim 's sure these flowers have never been seen before today .

He grabs a handful of those flowers, his hands shaking.

And goes home.

 

_***_

Music blasts loudly in speakers of the Titans Tower. It’s a swirl of generic pop-songs about love that Bart and Cassie started playing, trying to see who could find the cheesiest, the most cringe-worthy one.

They elected Kon to be the judge of the contest, but he’s having troubles finding anything bad in the songs that speak to his _soul_.

Because all of them talk of love and butterflies in the pit of your stomach and how the smiles of your loved one make your day and, okay, maybe some of them are about ‘a lady of your heart’, but Kon’s not above changing the pronouns.

He’s absolutely done denying the depth of his feelings for Elliot. See, this is why he’s having trouble choosing a bad song when all of them make him see Elliot’s soft, gentle smile. It hurts and it feels good. In the worst, best kind of ways.

Kon doesn’t know when he started grinning to himself, but he must have done it some time ago, because Cassie comes up to shake him, a knowing, giddy look in her eyes.

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE IN LOVE WHO IS SHE?” she screams in delight, still shaking him.

“Cassie! It’s not...”

He shuts his mouth then, trying not to blush under Cassie’s penetrating gaze.

“It’s not a girl,” Bart adds helpfully.

"Bart!” Kon yelps, indignant .

Cassie blinks a few times, then readjusts quickly:

“Okay, so WHO IS HE? Do we know him? How did you meet? And how much did you already fuck up?”

“What? Why'd you instantly presume I’ve fucked up?!”

Cassie rolls her eyes.

“Duh, because I know you! You can flirt around, but if you have feelings for someone then you’re an awkward, panicking mess. Like, first-hand experience here,” she says, pointing a finger at herself. “Or d’you think you were so _suave_ ?”

Bart laughs and then scoots closer to Cassie, whispering loudly into her ear:

“I think he also wants that guy to be his boyfriend, but he hasn’t even asked him out yet. ”

“Hey, I heard that! ” Kon yelps, offended. “So that you know, I can be as suave as I wanna! And I can ask him out, no problem!”

“Yeah?” Bart says, looking at him innocently.

“Yeah!”

“Oh really?” Cassie chimes in, grinning wickedly.

“Really!” Kon raises to his feet along with raising his voice. “In fact, I’m gonna go and ask him out right _now_ !”

With that, Conner flies out of the window, probably knocking down the leftover snacks from the table – if Bart’s mournful cry is anything to go by.

He flies way too fast and he knows he’ll have to slow down soon, or he’ll get winded up not even getting to his destination.

But he’s fuming too much to care.

How dare Cassie and Bart underestimate him! Aren’t they supposed to be his friends?!

They’re gonna see that he can be charming and amazing and _suave_ as fuck!

Halfway to the island, the realization kicks in.

He said he’s gonna ask Elliot out.

He’ll _have_ to ask Elliot out.

Oh fuck.

***

  
When Kon arrives to Elliot’s house, there’s no one inside.

Not even Cookie to soothe away his raising panic.

Kon retrieves the key from the flowerpot and tells himself that’s it’s okay to just wait inside. Totally alone. Surrounded by everything smelling and looking so _Elliot_.

Absolutely not losing his goddamn mind about asking him out.

On a date.

Like, a date where some handholding and maybe kissing is supposed to happen.

There’s a lot of photos on the walls. Elliot’s rarely in them – probably because he’s usually the one who takes them. There’s a few of an old woman who’s supposed to be Sophia, Elliot’s dead aunt. More – of a group of people relatively his age, smiling and goofing around.

The point is, Conner’s sure they are all judging him.

Okay, so this is totally fine and he can handle it even if Elliot rejects him.

Oh god why did he think coming here was a good idea? And this early, no less, when Elliot’s still got his weird sunrise job.

This is totally Cassie’s and Bart’s fault. He’s gonna tell them it’s their fault to their smug faces.

Kon’s reeling thoughts come to a halt when his superhearing picks up a heartbeat approaching the house.

It’s Elliot’s heartbeat.

Kon tries to fix his hair, but there’s no mirror, so he just combs his fingers through it and hopes it looks okay.

‘Cause it’s okay, right? Tots ‘kay. Absolutely cool.

There’s footsteps approaching, the sound of the front door opening.

Cool. Cool, cool,cool, _coolcoolcoolcoo…._

“Conner?”

Elliot stands in front of him the middle of the room and suddenly Kon doesn’t care for his own panic.

Because Elliot looks a mess. There’s something wild and broken in his eyes. His voice is small and sounds so unsure, as if he’s doubting that Kon’s really here. There’s a handful of small red flowers in his hand.

Kon takes a step forward. It feels like the silence in the room is too thick, suffocating him. Elliot’s looking at him with big, wild eyes, his posture rigid – it feels like one wrong move may send him running.

“Hey there,” Kon starts softly, while desperately thinking of a neutral topic to start the conversation with . “You gone flower picking this early, huh?”

Elliot looks onto the flowers in his hands as if only now noticing they're there. And drops them as if they burn his hand. Elliot’s eyes roam around the room, the red flowers scattered at his feet. His breathing suddenly picks up, and Kon can hear his heart hammering frantically in his chest. Conner crosses the room in one swift motion and gets to him exactly in the moment when he starts to hyperventilate. Someone’s taught Superboy simple breathing exercises – he’s not sure who and when, but it’s not important now, because all Kon can do right now is beg for Elliot to please breath with him on a count of four.

Kon captures Elliot's face in his hands, stroking his jawline with a thumb and muttering soft reassurances. There’s light stubble on his jaw, dark circles under his eyes. Elliot shuts his eyes tightly and holds on to Kon’s arms as if he’s the only thing that keeps him standing. They stay like that until Elliot’s breathing evens out and he opens his eyes, looking up at Conner.

Elliot’s eyes are full of grief and despair and Kon would move the Earth out of it’s orbit if it could help stopping him from looking so much in pain.

“What do you want me to do? ” Kon asks softly, his hands still holding the guy’s face tenderly.

Elliot looks away, gulps an uneven breath, shudders, chews on his lower lip. When he finally lifts his eyes back to Kon’s face, there’s something raw and scared in his gaze.

“Just hold me? ” he asks, his voice small.

And in that moment Kon’s crush doesn’t mean a thing, because Elliot’s hurting and everything in Kon is rearranging itself to soothe and protect .

So Kon holds him close to his chest, one hand in his hair, cradling Elliot's head, the other – on his back. Elliot leans into him, burying his face in Conner ’s neck. He 's trembling slightly and soon enough Kon can feel a spot on his shirt where Elliot’s face is pressed go dump. His crying is oh so silent, the only whimpers Kon can catch is because of his superhearing.

The soundless crying is freaking him out ( _and also maybe it feels like his heart is breaking in two_ ), so Superboy panics and talks without thinking:

“You look like someone died.”

Elliot shudders in his hands and presses closer. Kon’s about to kick himself for it.

“Fuck , someone _did_ ?”

Elliot nods into his shoulder.

“There was someone I looked after….” he explains, his voice raw. “He was very old. He couldn’t move around on his own. I know it’s- it’s better like this and he was _suffering_ and- and wanted it all to end but I. I can’t… Fuck, I’m so _selfish_!”

“Missing people is not selfish. You’re allowed to grieve.”

“No, no - you think too highly of me! The first thing I've thought when- when I understood what'd happened was- was that I’m all alone here now and god I'm _so ashamed_. ”

At that, Elliot pulls away from him, wiping his face with a sleeve of his shirt. His face is flushed and his bloodshot eyes won’t meet Conner’s. His shoulders are hunched, his whole posture showing how uncomfortable he is.

“I’m sorry, ” the guy says – before Kon has a chance to interject . “You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this. I, I just didn’t sleep tonight and probably need a nap.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think you’re selfish and I don’t think you should be ashamed. You’re hurting and all of this is _okay_ . And. And if you don’t wanna be alone? I'll stay.”

Elliot shoots a look at him, his eyes cautious.

“You don't have to.”

“I know. I still'd like to stay.”

Kon sighs and tentatively puts his hands on to the other guy’s shoulders. Despite the tension, Kon can see him instantly relaxing . And the next moment Elliot surges forward, into Conner’s arms.

“Just a little bit more,” Elliot says, apologetic.

“Take as long as you need.”

They stay like that for a while, Kon moving his hand up and down Elliot’s back. When he understands that the guy’s practically falling asleep in his arms, Kon persuades him to go to bed. Elliot mutters something about mirrors and opts for staying on the couch in the living room.

“You promised you’d stay,” Elliot whispers, his cheeks pink, and drags Kon down to the couch with him.

For a guy who seemed so embarrassed about his request just now, he settles on top of Conner quickly and easily. Kon puts his arms around him and tries not to think too much about his violently racing heart that Elliot can definitely hear because his cheek is pressed to it.

It doesn’t take Elliot long to fall asleep. It does, though, take Kon a very long time to stop thinking about how this is the closest they’ve ever been and how amazing Elliot’s body feels on top of him, trusting him to be so close.

Cookie the cat appears seemingly out of nowhere, curling at their feet. Kon suddenly feels ashamed for what he’s just thought. He tries to concentrate on Elliot’s heartbeat instead, the familiar lullaby of it finally lulling him to sleep.

 

Kon wakes up because something on top of him is moving and he puts his hands around it to stop the warmth on his chest from disappearing. Warm breath tickles his neck and he finally is awake enough to realize that there’s a person lying on top of him, a person who is Elliot and _holy shit_ ~

When Kon apologizes sheepishly and lets him go, Elliot chuckles.

“I’d love to stay snuggling with _super boy_ ,” he says, his eyes glistening with mischief. “But I better go grab a shower and change. I’ve been wearing this for over a day now.”

Kon nods, petting Cookie who has found her way to his lap at one point.

“Are you hungry?” he remembers to ask when Elliot’s almost at the stairs that lead up to his room. “I could make something while you’re showering?”

Elliot turns to him and his gaze softens.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

So Conner rummages through the fridge and manages to make a descent omelet. By the time Elliot comes to the kitchen, the table is set and there’s warm food waiting on a plate. Elliot thanks him with a grateful smile and takes his place at the table. Cookie comes to the kitchen, too, crunching on the catfood in her bowl. Kon takes his fork and can’t help thinking about how _domestic_ this feels – and how he wouldn’t mind waking up like this every day.

Cookie yowls for attention, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Water, ” Elliot explains, about to get up.

Conner catches his tired eyes and jumps to his feet first.

“I’ve got it,” he says, pulling the water bowl up to clean it. “You stay put and eat your evening breakfast.”

Elliot chuckles at that, but it sounds strained. The haunted expression from the morning is back in his eyes. He pushes the remaining food around his plate.

“How are you feeling? ” Kon asks, worried.

“Better than this morning, ” Elliot says, a small smile on his lips. He looks directly at Kon, his eyes warm. “Thank you.”

Elliot turns away quickly after, his cheeks slightly pink.

“You, ugh. Don’t have to babysit me anymore, though, I’ve decided to stay with one of my aunts.”

“I don’t mind,” Kon says softly. “I really, _really_ don’t mind.”

The guy looks up at him, their gazes meet and stay interlocked. Gosh, he is so _beautiful._ Kon can’t believe he’s so honored to _be_ here and _see_ him. Their hands are on the table, and Conner suddenly becomes acutely aware at how close they are. He swears he can feel the warmth radiating from Elliot’s fingers. If he just moved his hand a little, he’s sure he’d…

A loud screech reaches them from the outside and makes them both jump. Kon's not an expert on wildlife, but that did sound like some big bird. Elliot looks towards the door.

“That’s, um, a messenger from her. She seems ready to host me for a few days.”

Superboy sees this as dismissal and gets up, preparing to leave.

When they exit the house, Elliot turns to him, moves closer and, before Conner has a chance to understand what’s going on, leans up to him and pecks him on the cheek.

“Thank you,” Elliot whispers again and stalks away towards the forest before Kon can form any coherent words in reply.

The fuzzy, warm feeling in his belly stays with Kon for a long time after that.

***

For the next few days Kon listens closely for Elliot’s heartbeat, but it’s still not back in the house on the island.

Conner absolutely does not brood because of that, no matter what Bart and Cassie say.

Almost a week passes when, finally, the heartbeat is back. Of course, that’s exactly when the team has a mission, so Superboy has to wait ‘till much later to dart to the island.

It’s late evening there, and he finds Elliot at the table in the kitchen, hunched over a big leather-bound book. It looks almost as nothing happened at all, nothing changed – except one small detail.

“What the hell is that?” Kon cries out, pointing a finger unceremoniously.

His glasses sliding a bit down, Elliot looks up at him, arching an elegant eyebrow.

“These are my reading glasses,” Elliot says, his tone amused.

Conner snorts.

“Sure thing, grandpa!”

Glasses are more of a cover thing for Superboy, something to make him more Conner Kent – you know, to tone down the hotness.

So why, _why_ , _ohgodwhy_ does Elliot have to be so hot in that goddamn thing?!

“Um, how was your stay with your auntie?” Kon asks, trying to redirect his thoughts.

Elliot shrugs.

“It was alright. Um. And. How’s San Francisco?”

Conner sees Elliot’s awkward try to change the subjects and decides to roll with it. After all, both of them need a bit of normality after all that happened a week ago.

So Kon starts telling him about the latest villain of the week and the Titans’ epic battle with it. Elliot calls bullshit on some parts of the story, and how dare he not believe that Wonder Girl would have been absolutely helpless if not for Superboy’s selfless bravery?

They banter and laugh and it’s almost okay.

Kon does not ask him out.

***

In the next few weeks that follow Kon comes to the house only a handful of times – it’s suddenly getting busy. Bart says it’s because Halloween is coming, and Halloween is the time for evil overlords to be more active, but come on, it’s still September!

On the island, the season finally visibly changes – it's getting colder. Elliot starts putting on a jacket and a pair of black leather gloves. Kon watches his hands in them, fascinated. It makes him feel like it's something familiar, like he’s supposed to recognize this.

Or maybe it’s because he might have developed a leather kink, which probably shouldn’t shock him that much.

He's also found out that Elliot works out, which was ... an experience.

Meaning, when Elliot showed up all sweaty, in skin-tight top and ridiculous pants that let a strip of skin and the waistband of his boxers show, Kon had experienced a pretty bad hardon and had to excuse himself to the bathroom, where he spent nearly 20 minutes trying to calm down and come up with an excuse. He ended up saying something about stomach problems, which let to a bewildered Elliot eyeing him weirdly for the rest of the evening.

Thus, his plan to ask him out that day had to be postponed.

The problem is – he kept postponing it, again and again.

He's not scared. Whatever Cassie and Bart say.

Okay, he may be absolutely fucking terrified to lose Elliot if something goes awry. After seeing Elliot fall apart in front of him and staying over for the night, Kon understood how precious the guy is to him. So that’s why he keeps making up excuses for Cassie's probing questions.

 

These are the thoughts that occupy Kon’s mind when he’s sitting in the house, waiting for Elliot to come back. Today, Superboy put on a black leather jacket covered in pins and patches with the S symbol. It’s just getting colder, okay? It’s fall, after all. There was no reason for Cassie to call him a peacock and laugh like that when she saw him leaving the Tower today.

It’s been half an hour of waiting, when, finally, Elliot strolls in with snow in his hair and a basket in his hands.

Kon has to do a double take, turning to Elliot and then back to the windows.

There’s still patches of greenery outside and the sun is shining. There’s also snow in Elliot’s hair. It’s melting quickly, but it’s definitely snow.

“What the fuck? Did I miss a blizzard?!”

“No,” Elliot laughs. “I was with my aunt.”

As if that’s gonna explain anything.

Elliot puts the basket on the table, but leaves it unpacked.

“That’s a nice jacket you got there,” he says, smiling, and suddenly all of Cassie’s bullying means nothing to Kon. “I hope you didn’t wait too long?”

“Nah, I was keepin’ busy,” Kon shrugs, leaning back in the chair casually – it helps to show off his arms in the leather jacket. “Went through the pics you have here.”

There’s a stack of photos and a letter on the counter. Kon didn’t read the letter, even thought he wanted to. But he did see the pictures, all of them of one person - that girl, Kiki.

“That friend of yours is super cute,” Kon says.

“If you wanna ask me for her number, that’ll be a hard no.”

“What, you got plans for her or something?” Conner asks, ignoring the sour taste in his mouth.

Elliot snorts.

“Kon, she’s a lesbian.”

Okay, that’s…. not what he expected. Kon swallows past the lump in his throat, his heart suddenly going an insane amount of beats per minute.

“What about you?”

“Are you asking me if _I’m_ a lesbian?” Elliot laughs.

It sounds strained.

When Kon doesn’t answer, Elliot adds with a sigh:

“I’m bi.”

“You’re bi?” Kon repeats, not even trying to hide the relief in his voice.

“Yeah,” Elliot shrugs, but doesn’t meet Kon’s gaze.

Belatedly, Superboy thinks that he may have been not the only one who was worried about the other’s reaction to not being straight.

“Cool,” Kon says, smiling like a fool. “Same here.”

“What? You?” Elliot squeaks, his eyes huge. That makes Kon laugh. The other guy crosses his arms over his chest and pouts, angry blush spreading over his cheeks. “I. I didn’t know that.”

So, Elliot actually had no idea, which also means he really never noticed Kon’s flirting.

Oh well.

They change the topic quickly after that, both trying to process this new knowledge. It’s a very exiting knowledge, if you ask Kon.

That day, he doesn’t ask Elliot out. But this time he’s finally sure he’ll do it soon, and maybe it’s not even gonna fuck everything up.

*******

Tim comes to slowly, his body feeling absolutely wrecked, just like after an intense training session with a lot of obstacles in the way. He groans and pushes himself up, his arms shaking.

The first thing he registers is that there’s other voices in the house. He can hear them all the way up to his bedroom, even though it’s more likely they’re coming from the first floor. When his brain catches up with him, he understands that it’s Marie and Ginny yelling at each other.

“You crazy royal BITCH!” Marie’s voice booms. “You know fucking well what you did – you left the kid to sleep in a _faerie ring_! What the fuck got into your rotten brain?! What if he never wakes up?!”

Tim forces himself to get out of bed, his legs unsteady under him. He has to hold on to the walls to move.

“Oh p-le-e-ease! You’ve all indulged Sophia because her old body was rotting together with her brain, but enough is _enough_! Boys are not meant to be witches and you know it!”

“You said you were okay with him, you were there when he took the oath!”

“Oh, you poor girl, don’t you get it? I _lied_.”

Tim is taking the stairs, painstakingly slowly, step by step. Something crashes downstairs and then something breaks.

“It was _necessary_ ,” Ginny spats. “It was what had to be done! What the coven needed, and not what you all wanted. Wasn’t it a _doll_ to play house with? A broken, lost boy – just look at him, what a sob story! He can’t be trusted to take care of himself, how can we trust him to take care of the community here? He needed to be taken out, like the trash that all men are! I was just giving him a way out – a peaceful one, it was even _nice_!”

Tim finally gets gown the stairs, but has to hold on to the banister to stand. The view downstairs is horrid – the cabinets in the kitchen are thrown open, their content spilling out. The table is broken in half, splinters scattered on the floor. Ginny is half-laying on the floor, halfway to the couch in the living room area, Marie is standing over her, a long dagger in her hand. The tip of it is pressed to Ginny’s neck, but she doesn’t seem phased by it at all, a wry smirk on her lips.

His memory is starting to catch up with him in painful, disarrayed flashes.

Tim remembers a sweet, melodic voice, quoting-singing:

**Come away, O human child!~**

**To the waters and the wild~**

There’s sweet-sounding, bordering on tooth-rotting sweet laugh.

There were also golden eyes and breathtakingly beautiful golden hair.

Everything around him insisting on being _nice_.

Even though Tim’s voice is steady, it’s hoarse.

“It would’ve been _nicer_ if you had the guts to say all of this to my _face_.”

Marie turns her head so fast it’s strange she didn’t give herself a whiplash. Her mouth agape, her grip loosens on the dagger.

Ginny doesn’t notice that the dagger has been turned away from her, gaping at Tim.

“You?” she cries. “You’re? How are you alive?”

Tim really wants to cross his hands to stress the point, but the probability that he’ll fall and face-plant if he lets go of the banister is too high.

“Oh please,” he says, mocking Ginny’s previous intonation. “I’ve had the likes of Ra’s al Ghul in my rouges gallery, do you think I won’t be able to outwit a fucking fairy?”

“Guinevere,” Marie says in a steely voice, her hand with the dagger going back up. “You are to take an intermission from the coven. You will be called upon when all are gathered to deal with what you’ve done.”

“Who do you think you are? You do not have the authority!...”

Ginny’s voice stills when Marie’s dagger draws blood. She turns her gaze to Tim.

“I was just giving you a chance to prove what kind of a _witch_ you are.”

Tim grips the banister tighter. It feels warm, way too warm under his hands.

“Leave my house. Right. NOW.”

Marie lets Ginny get up, but places herself between her and Tim. That does not stop Ginny from saying to him on her way out:

“Understand your place now – you will thank me later.”

When the front door closes with a bang, the wood under Tim’s palm burns.

Marie yanks his hands away from it and drags him to the couch.

“Sit. I’ll clean up and bring you a glass of water.”

She leaves to the kitchen, which is on the same floor and not even separated by a wall from the area where Tim is, but it feels like she’s a mile away from him.

Him – and all the thoughts swarming like hornets in his head.

His brain is picking apart and replaying for him, again and again, everything that Ginny’s said. It sounded too much like what Damian used to say, back then, at the begging, when he was at his nastiest. Like all of the voices in Tim’s head that told him that he’s useless and worthless and nothing but less combined.

Tim’s shaking and there’s strange, creaking noises around him. He does not pay attention to them.

He’s been here for so fucking long.

_broken boy_

And his family, his friends – they just didn’t care. Didn’t notice. Not even a single thought about him crossed their minds, and why would it – he was just temporarily taking up somebody else’s place. No wonder he was erased from their lives so easily.

Ginny told him, when he was with her in London, that magic can only persuade somebody to do what they already want to do. It doesn’t work for a person with 100% conviction, that’s why truly religious people are never swayed from what they perceive as good and right, because their belief makes them invulnerable.

He’s been desperately clinging to the fact that Kon is still coming to see him, but why?

Sometimes Tim swears he could see glimpses of recognition in him, but it must be just wishful thinking.

Kon must just pity him.

Because he’s nice.

The word _nice_ leaves a bad aftertaste in Tim’s mouth now.

_lost boy_

What the fuck is he supposed to do?

He’s no good for the village.

No good with this magic thing.

He is not needed here, too.

He has nowhere to go.

He should have stayed asleep.

“Timmy!” Marie screams from somewhere that feels really far away.

There’s suddenly so much noise, creaking and rasping – it’s like a dam breaking. There’s also a lot of movement and, when Tim lifts his head, he see the whole house rambling and moving and tearing apart at the seams.

There’s sparkles of energy in the air.

“What? What’s going on?” Tim finds his voice shaking, turning with the question to Marie.

“You’re a witch, kid. Magic knows you, recognizes you and _reacts_.”

There’s something exploding in the background. Tim turns his gaze to Marie in a silent plea.

“It’s reacting to what’s in your head,” Marie is saying over the noise. “So change it. Get angry. White-hot angry, with laser-sharp focus. Angry gets shit done.”

Marie said he’s a witch. Marie yelled at Ginny earlier and even put a dagger to her throat.

Marie’s right.

He has the right to get angry.

Because, he’s so fucking angry.

At his family, at his friends, at the fucking spell and the ones that put it on him, the fucking island and the fairies and Ginny.

At never before being allowed to be angry, having to keep it in, to keep going, having to be in line and be good.

And at himself.

Marie was right about anger giving him laser-sharp focus.

It’s so sharp he thinks it could cut him.

The wind-whirl of destructive magic settles down around him. Marie edges carefully closer.

Tim plops back to the couch, not sure when he got up in the first place. Cookie jumps at it, crawling into his lap and purring. He strokes her fur absentmindedly. Marie risks to come closer, taking a sit at the arm of the couch.

“I mean it, what I said. You’re a witch. You have your familiar and your the knowledge in you head you worked hard for, and it’s all yours even without the coven,” her voice is earnest and above all Tim wants to believe her. Marie puts a hand on his shoulder and he relaxes, feeling, knowing there is no ill intent from her. “Asking for help is okay. It doesn’t make you less strong. Finding the right person to trust with asking – that’s another thing. As you can see, I, myself, hasn’t cracked that one yet.”

Her smile is self-deprecating, her eyes are too sad. This situation with Ginny, Tim understands, has hit her hard, too.

“But what I do know is a great spell to clean this mess. Remind me to teach you later, when you’re not recovering from whatever deal you struck with those nasty faerie. You can tell me all about it, but now – drink.”

She takes out a flask from her pocket that – Tim’s sure – contains some form of alcohol, because Marie takes a swing from it and only then gives it to him. Tim takes it and thinks that maybe he’s not the only one who needs company right now.

*******

Kon arrives to the house in the evening.

Today is the day.

Today, finally, after so may days dancing around the topic and panicking he’s going to ask Elliot out!

Elliot opens the door for him, as if he’s heard him flying up to the cliff. The guy looks pale, but he brushes off Kon’s concerned questions.

As usual, they stay in the kitchen with tea and pastries and some conversation. The problem is, today Kon’s the one who’s mostly doing the talking, with Elliot only speaking when prompted. Or, like, poked at.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kon asks. “You’re so quite today.”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure? ‘Case it doesn’t look like that. Like, also, no offense, but your definition of ‘fine’ is ridiculous. Like, last time when you were wheezing with terrible coughs you also said you’re fine. D’you maybe need something? I coulda get you whatever it is. I mean, you’d have to rely on my absolute awesomeness. It’s been established that you can’t even take care of yourself,” he laughs.

Kon knows he’s babbling because he is trying to muster up the courage to ask the guy out.

He’s expecting Elliot to laugh, too.

But Elliot doesn’t laugh or tease him, as he usually does.

He gets up abruptly, in one rash, angry movement.

“Leave me alone,” he spats.

Conner’s heart sinks. There’s sluggish, nasty feeling settling down at the pit of his stomach.

“What?”

“I said. Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone.”

The cups on the table _explode_. There’s cracking sound and smell of ozone in the air that makes Kon’s knees weak.

“What? I just. I didn’t mean!...”

The front door swings open, even though they both are feet away from it. Kon feels phantom hands gripping his shoulders and pushing him away.

“Leave. Now.”

Elliot looks livid. He also looks like he absolutely hates Kon’s guts.

So Superboy leaves.

Shit!

This was not how the day was supposed to go today!

He was so sure he’s finally gonna…

And now…

Kon’s gonna deny it if anybody asks, but he feels like crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [title](https://unluckyloki.tumblr.com/post/184455544583/inkskinned-oh-no-oh-no-this-wasnt-supposed)
> 
> so, too little too late, I've finally incorporated some info on the Endless family. That's more than enough for you to understand them for this fic, but if there's anything more you're interested in - do ask!
> 
> Also, Despair mentioned her twin - it's Desire. Desire's very interested in people who pretend they don't have any emotions - interested in a way 'they try and usually succeed to prove those people wrong'  
> (Desire of the Endless doesn't have a fixed gender and changes it as pleases - and is referred to as 'it' in the comics. I have made a conscious decision to refer to Desire as 'them' instead, because 'it' never did sit well with me. Yeah, I mention them for like a second, but I was thinking about this too much)  
>    
> there's a part of dialog I took from 'Sandman: Brief lives' - it's the last 2 dialog lines for Delirium and Dream.
> 
>  the 2 lines in bold are from a poem called The Stolen Child by W. B. Yeats  
>  
> 
> [also, this line quoting Anansi](https://66.media.tumblr.com/30bfc75523b42c0f7bae2db378846765/tumblr_p9cr2lEZCz1ut1d6co3_500.gif)  
>    
> [a page from the Sandman, the red flowers + bonus Delirium and Dream talking under the cherry tree](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gkg_Rmb5IKI/VRZu8NhwFNI/AAAAAAAJQkE/ASDYyTGrXE8/s1600/p7_214%2Bcopy.jpg)
> 
>  [a very timkon song I can't stop listening to](https://youtu.be/fLuWMOF6vOU)


	12. if you find bones by the ocean, run.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a strange energy reading detected by the supercomputers on the Watchtower, so the leaguers set out to investigate and dragged a few Titans with them ‘for educational purposes’. Which Kon is sure a code for ‘having a miserable life and trying to make them miserable, too’ but whatever. At least, Bart and Cassie are with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're entering the Main Event zone - starting from this chapter, there's a lot of things happening and they happen _fast_ in a short period of time. Strap in, it's gonna be wild.
> 
> TW for kinda body horror\gore?? There's a dead body described in one paragraph. It starts straight after "It’s not a good sight."- skip the next paragraph if it may make you uncomfortable

Kon's sure Cassie wanted to ask him a dozen questions when he came back to the Tower, but she held her tongue as soon as he met her eyes. Whatever she saw in him, Cassie left him alone for the best part of the day. Later on, when Kon curled up on his bed, Bart zipped in, leaving a plate of cookies on his bedside table.

So Kon ends up spending the rest of the day wrapped up in a soft blanket, munching on comfort food and blasting music in his room. However, after

 [I'm so tired of love songs, tired of love songs ](https://youtu.be/AOW_fAD6_Fw)

[Tired of love songs, tired of love ](https://youtu.be/AOW_fAD6_Fw)

[Just wanna go home, wanna go home ](https://youtu.be/AOW_fAD6_Fw)

[Wanna go home](https://youtu.be/AOW_fAD6_Fw)

starts over for the 5 th  time in a row, Wonder Girl kicks Conner out of the Tower.

Gently, saying something about actually going _home_ to Smallville where ‘the fresh air may do him some good’.

But still.

At least, Ma’s happy to see him. She promises to make him an apple pie and sends him off to the barn to do some work – mostly moving things and cleaning.

Work is good. Mindless, physical labor has always helped Kon work through his emotions.

Ma calls him back to the house after what turns out to be a few hours, but feels like maybe half an hour for him. They have dinner together. It's unusually silent and solemn and finishes too soon, mostly because Kon speeds up and eats all food that was on his plate in record time. He thanks her for the food and gets ready to go sulk in his room.

“So,” Ma starts meaningfully, effectively trapping him in the room.

Kon meets her eyes – Ma’s looking at him carefully and with pity.

You don't have to know rocket science or to be Robin-level of genius to get what she wants to talk about.

No matter how she knows.

Wait, Kon has a pretty solid guess 'bout that.

“Did Cassie put you up to this?” Kon bristles.

The way Ma looks at him makes him regret it instantly. But, patient and good as she is, the woman does not get angry. She comes closer to him and puts a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Sweetheart, it’s not that hard to guess that you’re upset. You’re always eating too much and too quickly when you are. I just wanted to know if you wanted to talk about it?”

Unexpectedly for himself, Kon _does_ want to talk about it.

As they sit on the porch, he tells her how he met Elliot, how they quickly hit it off and how he’s been visiting him all this time.

“Oh, so it’s _that_ kind of story?” she smirks at him knowingly. “I remember how I was sneaking out to meet Pa all the time.”

Intellectually, he knows that Ma’s aware that he likes girls and guys all the same and supports him. But emotionally – talking about it with her makes him wanna melt through the ground and disappear.

It’s getting colder, but Ma still sits with him on the porch, listening to all of his moping. At one point, Conner pauses to get a shawl for her from the living room and grab some tea.

Just then, the deja vu hits him – only a couple of month ago, Elliot was sitting with him on his fancy ‘patio’ of a porch, with the tea and blankets. It was so easily perfect back then. How did it all go down so quickly?

He shares the last bits of the story with Ma, telling her all about his and Elliot's last meeting in excruciating detail that he’s been obsessively replaying in his head.

“I just dunno what I did!” he cries out, wringing his hands. “I probs said somethin’ that upset him!”

“Did you know that you were gonna upset him with what you were saying?” Ma asks seriously.

“No!” he says, horrified. “If I’d known, I’d never..!”

“So see, sweetheart?” she says, steadying him in his chair, too used now to Kon floating when he’s overcome with emotions. “This is not your fault. You couldn’t have known. You had no ill intent and I’m sure your Elliot will understand it when he’s over being meaninglessly angry at you for some unfortunate coincidence.”

“It’s just, such a shi--- Bad! Bad day for the coincidence. I was really gonna ask him out and ended up with this… Can’t call it ‘rejection’, ‘cause I actually didn’t get rejected ‘cause I didn’t even get to the part where I could have been and! It’s just. Just _hurts_ so much, that he won’t even want to see me… Like it hasn't been a day, but I miss him so much and especially when I think that I can’t just go and see him like before ‘cause he probably won’t even want to be friends anymore.”

At some point his eyesight became surprisingly misty and fuck, he’d promised himself he won’t cry, especially not where Ma could see. Which she totally just did, because a moment later she gets up to stand near him and wraps Kon in a hug. Sitting as he is in the chair, his head only reaches her shoulder.

“Oh honey,” Ma sighs, patting his hair. “You didn’t stop being friends. You just had a fight, it happens.”

That night Kon dreams of Elliot sitting on top of the Titans Tower with him, his hands in dark-green leather gloves. There’s a mini-picnic with half-eaten packages of junk food. Elliot laughs and says something about Bart being angry at them for taking all of it from the common kitchen.

When Kon wakes up the next morning, he pays no mind to the dream.

It must be wishful thinking, after all.

 ***

 At the end of the week, a crack in time and space spats out a group of creatures from another dimension right in the middle of the city. Titans rush to the rescue, fighting them off - until Raven finally joins them to banish the creatures back to their reality.

Just as after every battle, a moment of silence and deceptive calm comes. Everyone's trying to steady their breaths, still hyper-focused on their surroundings. Automatically, Superboy checks the site of the fight by expanding his superhearing. The Titans had managed to evacuate the civilians on time, so no one was there when they were fighting the creatures, but it still didn’t hurt to make sure.

There’s no one trapped or asking for help, and the emergency vehicles are getting closer, so Superboy’s about to drop listening, when he catches a familiar heartbeat. He’s almost sure he’s mistaken, but, after a moment of listening, it’s still there, steady and close. 

Kon turns around and follows the sound of it. Others yell something after him, their voices mostly annoyed, not angry – but he doesn’t stop.

It’s just so close.

A street to the right, another turn, just around the corner.

The sound of the heartbeat leads him to a small cafe with only two tables set near it. One of them is occupied and the sight of the person that’s sitting there makes Kon freeze mid-air.

“Hi,” Elliot says, his voice somehow managing to both crack and be an octave higher than normal.

Elliot’s heartbeat has picked up considerably since Kon’s arrival. He does not feel bad in the slightest for using his superpower to spy on it.

At some point after Superboy appeared, Elliot has gotten up from the chair he’s been sitting on. He did it so fast that the chair fell back. Elliot flinched at the loud clatter it made while falling, but didn’t try to put it back up, choosing instead to keep his eyes entirely on Conner.

Being the center of his attention leaves Superboy conflicted – it feels good, but also makes his blood boil, ‘cause how _dare_ this guy break his heart into million pieces, throwing Kon out of his house like that, and then appear on the street of Kon’s city as if nothing happened.

So Superboy allows himself to be petty.

“What are you doing here?” he asks bluntly, not even wasting his time on greetings.

This is a perfect opportunity for Elliot to say that he’s here by accident and for Conner to shrug and leave and continue to try and forget the guy in peace.

Instead, Elliot sucks in a shaky breath and says:

“I came here to find you. I've been an ass to you and you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”

“Hm-m,” Conner hums, stubbornly not looking at him. “Noted.”

“Can. Can we talk, please?”

“Oh,” he turns to Elliot at that, his arms crossed in a defensive gesture. “I, too, gotta talk now?”

“Please, you just don’t understand!”

“Maybe I don’t understand because you didn’t give me a chance to understand? You just thew me out of your house for no apparent reason!”

“The reason had nothing to do with you, I swear! Just...something happened, it was… It was personal and affected me way too much, but I just took it out on you, and I’m so, so sorry that I did it!”

Elliot looks truly repentant, his eyes full of guilt. It’s almost enough to crumble Conner’s resolve to stay petty, but there’s still a point he wants to get across.

“I know you’ve known me only for a short time – you wouldn’t wanna share your whole life story with a person like that, and I’m not asking you to. I just thought we had… somethin'... special. I wanna be able to help and not get yelled at. And now I feel like you don’t trust me at all.”

Elliot’s eyes go wide at that and he takes a step closer to Conner.

“I trust you, god, I trust you more than you’d ever know!”

His voice is raw and earnest and somehow, Kon believes him. But he takes too long to answer, and Elliot’s voice takes a desperate turn when he says:

“I’m so sorry, I am, I can’t lose you like this, please!”

“You’re forgiven,” Kon nods and adds before the courage to do so leaves him, “Don’t push me away anymore. I just wanna be there for you, if I’m not allowed anything else.”

When Elliot looks at him after those words, there’s something so deep, almost painful, but maybe also hopeful in his eyes.

“Does this mean we can be… friends again?” the guy asks.

“No.”

Elliot looks both heartbroken and completely terrified.

“We didn’t stop being friends to begin with, we just fought,” Kon repeats what Ma said to him earlier.

Elliot exhales a shaky breath and lets out a startled, strained laugh.

“Okay,” he says, running his fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” Kon says back, with much more confidence.

“I, um, bought you hot chocolate?”

There’s two paper cups on the table beside Elliot and somehow Kon has not noticed them yet. Elliot grabs one cup and thrusts it into his hands. Superboy pulls off the plastic lid and gasps.

“With the little marshmallows! It’s my favorite!”

“I know,” Elliot smiles.

Kon wonders when exactly he shared this particular info about himself. Well, they’ve known each other for almost a year, shy of a few month. He must’ve said something at some point, right?

Superboy takes a sip of the drink and only then takes a look around. The emergency services must’ve already found their way to the part of the city where the Titans were fighting, so the civilians are finding their way back to the street. In particular, the one where Kon and Elliot are now.

Some of the people surrounding them are giving him not-so-discreet looks. He’s sure a group of girls on the left are gearing up to approach him – and well, usually Superboy’s all up for autographs, but right now he’d rather not get interrupted.

So he makes the most logical decision there is and grabs Elliot and their drinks and flies them away from the crowd. Though surprised at first, Elliot puts his arms around Kon’s neck and relaxes in his arms like he belongs there.

Maybe he does.

They land on the sidewalk near the bay. Superboy zips his leather jacket to hide the S on this T-shirt and flattens his hair.

“How about we take a walk?” he asks Elliot, turning to him with an easy smile.

It’s really not that easy to fall back on their usual behavior, but Kon’s ready to try.

“Sure, that’s...”

A loud ping interrupts Elliot’s sentence and the next moment the guy’s pulling the latest model of an iPhone out of his jeans pocket.

“Sorry,” he says, apologetic frown on his face. “I’m staying with my aunt here and she’s worried.”

He then reads the message on the screen and suddenly flushes, typing furiously. The phone makes a sound again when the message gets sent back and Elliot pushes it back into his pocket, smiling nervously.

“So you got a phone now?” Kon asks.

“Not exactly? Holly just gave me her spare. She has three. I’ll give it back to her when I’ll be leaving.”

“Holly’s your aunt?”

“Yep,” Elliot answers, popping the last sound loudly, like bubblegum.

They begin their slow walk down the sidewalk that’s overlooking the bay. People don’t seem to pay any attention to them here, everyone’s rushing on with their business. It’s chilly here and Elliot puts his hands in his denim jacket’s pockets.

Kon has never seen him outside of the island and it’s calm village life, even though he knew that Elliot sometimes visited his aunts, namely the one who lives in London. Still, he finds himself thinking that the guy fits into the city life effortlessly, like he’s always been here, walking by Kon’s side down the San Francisco street.

Superboy catches himself staring for too long and tries to cover it with a rushed question.

“Where does she live?”

“Over there.”

Elliot waves across the water to the district with big fancy houses. The ones that probably cost like 20 Kent farms put together and overlook the city skyline.

Kon whistles.

“So she’s rich!”

“Ugh, I guess?” Elliot shrugs easily. “Anyway, how about you tell me about this awesome battle you had today? And don’t miss the details about how you had your ass handed to you.”

“What?! Why would you even say that?!”

“Kon, your jeans are _ragged_.”

Conner looks down, and, yep, his jeans have much more holes in them than he remembers. Which does not mean he’d let Elliot mock him like that.

“How dare you! Maybe, it’s a fashion statement!”

Elliot laughs and it’s melodic and nice and fills in the void in Kon’s heart that he didn’t even know was there.

It gets gradually easier to get back to how they were before after that. They spend the evening together and talk about all the things happening lately, dancing around the uncomfortable subjects. Elliot tells him about his aunt – the San-Fran one – and her love for technology and how she can’t cook to save her life but is trying anyway, and that he had to eat burnt toast that morning because he didn’t want to upset her. Kon tells him about the latest movie marathon in the Titans Tower and how him and Bart had made a bet to see who can eat an alien kind of Tabasco sauce one of the Green Lanterns had brought from some planet and how it ended up with Impulse running up and down the tower for 20 minutes straight and Kon not leaving the bathroom for more. Elliot laughs at that so hard they have to stop and Kon grumbles that he’s just like the rest of the Titans – who are absolutely heartless – and would fit in well with the other horrible friends Superboy has.

They have to say goodbye sooner then Kon wants, but he’s left the others to deal with the post-battle mess and didn’t even explain where he’s gone, so he has to go back. Elliot reassures him it’s okay and smiles that soft, private smile when Superboy flies off.

And maybe Kon won’t call it a date, ‘cause from what little he’s gotten out of Elliot, the guy is not having the best time of his life at the moment and Kon doesn’t want to make it harder for him.

It’s not a date, but next time, it might be.

 ***

 You can ask any Titan about which part of their training is the worst and, without doubt, everyone will tell you that it’s the mentoring sessions that are designed around them following said mentors while they do the most mundane and most boring tasks, like monitoring frequencies and analyzing reports.

Sometimes it’s a group thing, a few leaguers and a few titans together, which doesn’t make it better, like, at all. Because a group mentoring session most likely will include Batman, who manages to suck the joy out of an even possibly fun activity.

This time, Conner, Cassie and Bart are the victims claimed by the group mentoring session. Robin was supposed to be there, too, but something happened in Gotham that left him grounded at home. You’d think the joy-sucking-vampire that is Batman would then stay out of it? Fuck no, not only did he not stay out, but also gathered even more extra ‘mentors’ from the league to serve as ‘examples’ to them. How do all of the assorted bat-kids live with this, Kon would never know.

Today’s mentoring session was supposed to be a routine check-up on the satellites that are positioned around the Earth to monitor unusual frequencies in case of alien invasions and whatnot. One of them picked up weird and distorted readings somewhere over Eurasian continent. No amount of remotely controlled sensors was able to tell if the satellite was broken or if the weird readings were true, so it was decided to turn the boring monitoring duty into a boring field trip to the possible source of the readings.

Superboy envies Wonder Woman, who managed to sneak away from this by being needed at a natural disaster sight somewhere across the world. Geeze, Kon wouldn’t even mind being grounded, like Robin is, just to be away from the awkward atmosphere of an unlikely team put together in the cockpit of one of Bat-planes.

Aside of the obvious Flash and Superman for Impulse and Superboy respectively, today’s group also includes Green Lantern and Aquaman. They were unlucky enough to be in the Watchtower when Batman gathered the troops for the away mission.

Now, they are all sitting in the large cabin of the plane and are supposed to monitor the outside for any suspicious activity. How are they supposed to do that while the plane flies over the sea with absolutely identical masses of water and also an upcoming storm is unclear. Judging from the looks of others, it’s unclear not only to Kon.

Hal Jordan, who’s the Green Lantern they’ve been blessed with for this trip, is having a blast annoying the living hell out of Arthur.

“Can’t you just go talk to fish and save us the trouble?”

“I do _not_ talk to fish,” Aquaman sighs a long-suffering sigh.

It’s an old argument, but Hal still gets a kick out of it.

“But I can consider making this place my summer villa, because, historically, people had assumed that Atlantis was here, in the Aegean sea,” Aquaman says in return.

“Focus,” Batman reprimands them.

The plane plunges into silence once again. Bart is fidgeting in his sit, Cassie looks out of the window with unseeing eyes, probably thinking about something that’s not here and not so boring. Kon can’t even talk to them in this pressing silence, so he's just gonna daydream about things that are... not really appropriate for this mission. Thanks fuck Martian Manhunter’s not with them.

The storm outside is getting worse and soon they can’t use the windows anymore. The weather outside is in complete chaos. The group comes together closer to the huge monitors, the mentors getting in a heated discussion about the results. The monitors are not helping, either, because the readings are all wrong, the numbers jumping from highest to lowest in seconds and then disappearing completely, computers cracking and turning off.

Aquaman says that the nothingness in the waters underneath them is eerie.

Even Green Lantern’s ring detects noting.

Which leaves them with the only possible outcome – magic.

It takes 10 more minutes of Batman tinkering with the unresponsive tech for the man to grunt and finally put the device away.

“We might need a specialist.”

Flash perks up:

“I could go get Zatanna?”

“I don't think she would appreciate being dragged to the middle of nowhere,” Batman replies gruffly.

“Constantine?” Green Lantern suggests.

“Not an option,” Batman answers too fast.

There’s a long weighty pause before Superman turns to him.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

Clark sighs and his face takes on a stern and serious look that makes you feel guilty and wanna confess to all the possible sins all at once. Kon’s sure he’s seen the exact same look on Ma’s face several times.

“Bruce?”

There’s a long pause, but it turns out that even Batman is not immune to Ma’s patented look of utter disappointment.

“It wasn't me.”

This turns into another heated debate between the leaguers, non of whom even consider asking Superboy and the other Titans about their opinions. Which is just – typical. And, also, one of the reasons why Kon hates the mentoring sessions, with all it’s pretense to be ‘educational training’ but which just ends up with Kon feeling like a child left with overzealous adults trying to show off at school bake sale.

He’s not even sure what they’re talking about anymore, but then someone says:

“Greek authorities had sent out the broadcasting of storm warning less than half an hour ago!”

This finally catches Kon’s attention and he elbows Cassie in the ribs to ask:

“Wait, we're near Greece?!”

“Yes, haven’t you been listening?”

“No, actually, I haven’t.”

“Me neither,” Bart quips.

Cassie groans and pulls the paper version of a map that, as it turns out, has been used by the others since the computers turned off, closer. She tells them that the engines of the plane are malfunctioning as well, so they’re debating going back to the base to regroup or finding somewhere to land.

Kon takes a look at the map and yep, there it is, an island he now knows how to find with his eyes closed. He’s so exited he jumps up from his seat and bangs on the table to make the others pay attention to him.

Superman, Aquaman, Green Lantern, Flash and Batman turn to him and stare. It’s unnerving, so Superboy has to clear his throat twice before saying:

“I might know someone form around here who could help?”

 ***

 It’s been a few weeks since Tim walked alongside Kon on the sidewalk of San Francisco.

It felt so natural, so right.

Tim swears that for a moment there, he could almost believe that nothing happened, nothing changed between them, they were just two superheroes in civilian clothes taking a walk in their city.

It’s been a few weeks, and he still can’t stop thinking about it.

And just to think that he might have lost it, all because of his own idiotic tantrum.

He still couldn’t believe Kon forgave him for the horrible way he treated him. It all just happened so fast – that day wasn’t the best one to begin with, Marie just left a few hours ago and his head was still fuzzy after their talk about Ginny and faerie magic. And then Kon said the exact same thing Ginny did to Marie and Tim saw red. He didn’t even notice how magic activated around him, obeying the though to make Conner go away.

The moment Tim let it sink in, he was close to a panic attack.

He’s hurt Kon. More importantly, he’s hurt him because his own messed up brain made a connection Kon couldn’t have meant.

He desperately wished he could have Steph back – she would have teased him for sure, but eventually she would’ve helped. Dick would’ve offered his understanding and support and Tim's sure he’d have an idea or two about how to make it right. Jason would’ve said something about him being emotionally constipated, as if Jason had any fucking right to judge.

He couldn’t have them back, so he stayed in his house, paralyzed by fear that he’d ruined his relationship with Kon forever.

The help came a few days after in a form of an unexpected visitor. Holly appeared at his door, dragging him out and telling him ‘to stop being so silly and go say sorry’. Tim had half a thought to ask her what she meant, but then Holly looked at him in that ‘I’m not mad but disappointed’ kind of way and he promptly shut up.

Getting the courage to go talk to Kon took him a few more days of staying with Holly in her luxurious house. In the end, it was her who pushed him out of the door and told him not to come back before he ‘rights his wrong’. Even the apparent alien invasion didn’t stop her.

So, Tim bought Kon’s favorite hot chocolate and a coffee for himself and set down to wait. He wasn’t prepared for Kon to find him first. He was also not prepared for the coldness in his eyes, but he forced himself to start talking. During the apology, his fingers went so cold he could barely feel them and he could swear his heart sunk when Kon answered ‘no’ to his question about being friends again.

It all ended up better then he expected. At least, Kon didn’t hate his guts – Tim wouldn’t have had the right to blame him if he did.

They haven’t been able to see each other a lot after that – Kon said there was some kind of training that he could not tell him about. Tim was pretty sure it had something to do with Bruce’s mentoring sessions that Kon hated so much.

There was a sentence Tim’s obsessive brain had remembered, word to word, and wouldn’t stop replaying. He probably shouldn’t dwell on it too much, but butterflies stirred in the pit of his stomach every time he remembered how earnest and soft Kon looked when he said ‘I just wanna be there for you, if I’m not allowed anything else’.

He tries not to read too much into it.

After all, Kon doesn’t remember him, the _real_ him.

Would he even want him if he did?

This spring, it’s going to be two years of his ‘priesthood’ on the island. It’s just around the corner, really – and Tim marvels at how fast the time passed. He swears it feels like he’s just arrived.

He pictures himself a 40 year old man, still here, on the island.

The children in school grow up and leave to study in the capital, maybe some of them go abroad.

His friends find jobs and get married.

Will Kon still visit him – or will he find someone else to?

This month hasn’t been kind to Tim, so it’s not really surprising when his moping at lunch gets interrupted on his only day-off. A group of fishermen knock politely on his door and tell him that a dead body had been found in the water and would he mind taking a look?

Tim’s not exactly sure why they’d want him for the job, but he goes anyway. It’s not like they could know that he used to be a vigilante detective, right? And it’s not like there’s any policemen on the island to delegate the job to. This place doesn’t even have a doctor, and the only figure of authority to people in the village is a witch.

Oh, right.

The body’s been found on the opposite side of the island, so they take a truck to get there. The men look to the sky and say that it’s going to rain heavily soon, so they better hurry.

When they arrive to the shore, Tim understands why they called him.

It’s not a good sight.

The body must have been in the water for quite some time. What’s left of its face is bloated from swelling. Pieces of flesh are missing, along with the left arm and right foot. Tim estimates 5-7 days in the water.

It’s not unusual for the drowned to be found like this, washed ashore, nibbled on by fish and other sea critters.

But the reason why Tim suddenly gets why the fishermen were so disturbed by it is that the teeth marks and other traces on the body had been left by something big. 

Tim kneels by the body, not caring much for wetness of sand underneath his jeans. This was someone’s loved one, someone’s family, and maybe they are looking for this person, wondering where they are. No matter who Tim is – a hero, a nobody, a witch– he can’t just stand by and do nothing.

The least he can do is give this person peace and their loved ones – a body to bury.

The fishermen are doing an admirable job of pretending not to see the bluish glow of magic radiating from his fingers. Tim wonders for the hundredth time about the people here and how many other things they might have seen.

It’s winter, so it’s getting dark fast, but Tim does not need artificial lights. It’s starting to rain, but he does not pay attention to it, hyper-focusing on the task at hand.

 *** 

Kon takes it back, Bart and Cassie are not a blessing for this trip – they’re a fucking curse.

“O-o-o-oh, so we’re finally gonna meet Superboy’s secret Greek boyfriend?” Cassie asks in a stage-like loud whisper.

“He’s not Greek!”

“But you’re not protesting the ‘boyfriend’ part?” Bart grins.

“Yeah- wait no don’t say that he’s my boyfriend in front of him!!!!! I don’t think he knows I like him like that!”

“Ooooh so he’s not only ugly, but also dense?”

“Cassie, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not ugly!”

“Yeah, that’s why he doesn’t have Facebook or Instagram or any other social media,”she snorts. “And also why you wouldn’t bring him to the Tower to meet us when he was in the city.”

This has been a reoccurring topic for the past few weeks – since Elliot left his aunt’s house in San Francisco and Kon confessed to the others that he’d seen him in the city.

“We’re meeting him in five minutes!” he says irritably to Cassie.

“I mean,”she stops her playful bravado, suddenly all serious. “I thought we’re friends? I dunno, did I do something to make you feel like you can’t tell me …. things?”

Oh, so this is what this has been about? Did he somehow manage to push Cassie away?

“Cassie, no, it’s not like that! I know I can tell you anything! It’s just … You were right, I do maybe- sometimes make a fool of myself and it’s just too embarrassing to discuss...”

“Oh,” Cassie blinks, surprised. “Okay then. Just. I needed to know that we’re okay and you to know that it doesn’t have to be weird or anything for you to introduce your new _beau_ to me, even though we’ve dated before.”

“I’m sure we’d be great friends!” Bart interrupts, clearly having enough of being excluded from the conversation.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m kinda afraid of,” Kon laughs.

But he also thinks that they’d make a terrific team.

Well, maybe the Titans will have an opening for a new magic user recruit one day?

“We're closing in on Naxos, eta 3 minutes,” Batman says, successfully ending their conversation.

When telling the league members about his friend from a nearby island, Kon had been brief. He's said that the friend is a witch and that they could stay in the house on the northern side of the island if they needed some rest. Seeing Clark's bewildered expression when Superboy said he has a witch-friend was gratifying. It's not like Kon didn't believe that Ma never told Clark any of his secrets, but having another proof of it is great.

They practically crash-land the plane in the clearing near the house and have to walk – or rather _run_ \- towards the door under the pouring rain. The lights are off, so Elliot must be away. Kon just hopes he's not outside in this horrible weather.

As he usually does when Elliot’s not home, Kon leans to the flower pot to take out the key.

After he opens the door, the others follow him inside.

“Gimme a minute to start the fire,” he says, using super speed to tend to the fireplace. “You can put your capes to dry here while I make something warm to drink. Is anybody hungry?”

As always, both Bart and Flash are hungry and Green Lantern and Aquaman ask for a sandwich, too. Cassie and Batman wander off to look around the room– both in different directions and with what Kon suspects different intentions. Kon navigates the kitchen with practiced ease. For whatever reason, Flash smiles a knowing smile and pats Superman’s shoulder. Clark looks lost.

Cookie the cat chooses this moment as a perfect opportunity to jump on Superboy’s shoulder, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Hey there, girl,” he pats her, not looking surprised and not even stopping making the sandwiches. Satisfied with the pats, Cookie jumps down and curls up on the counter top to stare at the others unblinkingly.

“That’s your witch friend?” Green Lantern asks, confused.

“Hal, that’s a cat,” Flash snorts.

Aquaman laughs, loud and deep. Even Batman starts radiating an air of amusement.

“How was I supposed to know? Witches turn into cats all the time in movies!”

“You should watch less movies,” Aquaman says, grabbing his sandwich form the plate Kon left for them.

While the others gather around the food, Superman inches closer to Conner. He’s been giving Superboy weird looks for some time now.

“So,” Clark starts awkwardly, leaning towards Kon as if trying to keep this private. “Do we need to talk about this girl?”

Out of all the things Kon could have said to this, his brain grasps the least pressing matter to address:

“It’s a guy!”

“But you said _witch_ …” Clark says, surprised, but recovers quickly, determination back on his face. “Okay, do we need to talk about this guy?”

“No?!! Why would we need to talk about him?!! Don’t talk to me at all!”

Kon escapes back to the others, his ears burning. Did Clark just try to give him The Talk?! Isn’t it a bit too late? And, also, more importantly – what the fuck?!

Bart brings him back to the present by asking a bunch of questions in one breath:

“So can he turn into a cat? If not, maybe into someone else? Does he fly on a broom? Does he cackle in that weird evil way when he’s making potions? Where’s the pointy hat?”

“You can ask him those questions yourself, but if you get turned into a toad afterwards I’m not gonna be responsible,” Kon laughs.

“Oh, so he can turn people into toads? That’s crash!”

“This is all very nice,” Batman interrupts in a voice that does not seem nice at all. “But when are we to expect your friend?”

Just then, the front door opens.

Elliot steps in, a coat that can’t be his ‘cause it’s at least five sizes too big practically devouring him. It’s soaking wet, and Elliot unceremoniously tugs it off and leaves it in a pile on the floor. The jacket that looks like his is thrown on the floor next – it has been under the huge coat, but it didn’t save Elliot from getting completely soaked. His hair looks as if he'd just stepped out of a shower, his clothes are clinging to his body tightly. Water is dripping steadily onto the floor under him, forming a puddle. Kon’s heart makes a leap at how good the guy’s arms look under the wet fabric.

Elliot, the glorious disaster, combs his fingers through his wet hair, pulling it back. And then finally notices the group gathered in his living room.

He freezes, deer in the headlights look on his face.

Wonder Girls leans closer to Conner to whisper into his ear:

“Okay, so he’s hot.” 

Kon elbows her in the side and the movement snaps Elliot out of his stupor. His brows furrowed in confusions, he asks, looking Kon in the eye:

“Superboy, what’s going on?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title - from a tmblr [post ](https://unluckyloki.tumblr.com/post/184455581078/moami-deseng-moami-if-you-find-bones-in%20by%20moami)
> 
> so I don't know much about Superman but I know that they killed off Pa Kent is come of the versions of canon, and you know what? fuck that, he's okay and alive here (somewhere)
> 
> also, I don't know much about Arthur and Hal, which I hope wasn't that insanely obvious. If there's some gross mischaracterization or you know\love the characters and want to give me some advice on them - feel free to drop a comment!
> 
> the amount of shit I've researched to describe a corpse for like 3 sentences is insane. I've seen things I can't unsee.
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. I usually write while listening to a playlist - would someone be interested in some of the songs that I now associate with the characters\situations in the fic?


	13. Brought to life by the storms that wreck the sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the moment his brain finally catches up and Kon fully understands that he’s just yelled at Batman.  
> And also said ‘fuck’, like, to Batman’s face.  
> He’s so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *there’s no Tim’s POV because he spent this chapter internally screaming*
> 
> TW for a few drops of blood

“Superboy, what’s going on?” Elliot asks, his eyes comically wide.

If Kon didn't know better, he'd say the guy was eyeing the League members in an almost terrified manner.

Is he scared?

Why would he be?

“Um, hi!” Superboy says, ignoring Cassie's snickers. “We’ve been around here and we needed some help so I thought we’d come by? This is the Justice League – well, partly. Guys, meet Elliot!”

Bart, Cassie and the Justice League – except, of course, Batman – wave.

Elliot does not wave back – he stays motionless, staring at the heroes now occupying his house.

Okay, so Kon _maybe_ might’ve thought that showing up with the League in tow may impress Elliot, but he did not expect the guy to freeze.

Ah, talk about freezing.

“Where have you been in this horrible weather?” Kon asks, worried.

Elliot finally moves, shrugging in reply. He suddenly finds the floor a very interesting thing to observe and does not meet Kon’s eyes.

“Had some things to do across the island and then checked on the lighthouse.”

“Oh, I forgot you’ve also picked up the lighthouse keeper job recently,” Kon says for the whole League to hear - ‘cause he’s so goddamn proud of how hard working Elliot can be.

“My father was a lighthouse keeper!” Aquaman perks up.

Elliot looks him in the eye unblinkingly and says, his voice devoid of any emotion:

“I know.”

Cookie decides that this is the perfect moment to demand food with loud yowling. Elliot snaps out of his staring contest with the general direction of Aquaman and moves towards the kitchen to pick up her bowl. He must’ve picked up his mood somewhere there, too, because the next time he speaks his voice sounds lighter, and the sudden change rubs Kon the wrong way.

“There's no need for you to stand here in the kitchen when there's a perfectly suitable couch in the living room. I'd imagine those costumes are very heavy,” Elliot says nicely. There's something wrong in his eyes. “I see there's tea ready for you – do make yourself at home.”

Superman exchanges glances with Flash in a soundless conversation. Hal does not catch those glances, or just doesn't care.

“Finally, someplace to sit!” he says and puts his feet on the coffee table near the couch.

“Green Lantern,” Aquaman hisses through his teeth, pushing Hal's feet off the table.

“What?” Hal hisses back. “My boots are clean!”

“It's okay,” Elliot says. “Even if they weren’t, there's a spell for that.”

Superboy should have known that this was too long for Bart to stay quiet, so there's no reason to be surprised when the next moment Impulse zips up to Elliot:

“Is that the a spell to turn people into toads? Can you turn me into a toad?! Superboy said you will turn me into a toad!”

“Impulse!” Cassie reprimands, squeezing Bart's hand obviously too hard - 'cause he screeches and recoils from her.

This time, Elliot's smile is genuinely soft.

“He's okay, Wonder Girl.”

Meanwhile, the others join Green Lantern on the couch that turns out to be a tight fit for a group of large men like them. Kon would've laughed at how awkwardly they clutched the tea cups he left there, if not for the fact that Elliot was acting _off_. His clothes are still dripping wet and he doesn't seem to notice. Knowing how, in the past, the guy had been known to get too focused on other things to even remember about needing to goddamn sleep, Kon starts worrying.

Elliot approaches the couch, his hands crossed over his chest. Looking at every one but Batman, who stays standing by the couch, he says:

“So, what exactly happened?”

The others look at each other and their voiceless conversation ends up in Barry being chosen as the spokesman:

“There is a weird anomaly over the sea nearby. We've though the reason for it may be rooted in magic – whatever it was fried all of our tech.”

“Oh,” Elliot says, his eyebrows suddenly going up is surprise. He glances to the window for a moment, as if he could see through the pouring rain. “And you didn't think about bringing any of the League's magicians?”

For some reason, Cassie squirms guiltily under Elliot's gaze and answers:

“It was supposed to be a routine check-up, nothing special.”

Elliot sighs like the unpreparedness of their mission is an offense personally to him.

“Magic does tend to do that with technology. But, before you tell me anything else, I'd rather know,” Elliot says and turns to face Batman.“What is that that you wanted to ask?”

Batman’s lip twitches in irritation. There's a long pause before he finally speaks.

“Are you a mind-reader?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t need to be, to see the creases on your costume, where you’re gripping your arms too tightly.”

Batman obviously glares from behind his lenses. Elliot does not budge, returning the gaze levelly – which leaves Kon both scared and strangely turned on.

“Some of my gadgets do not work here. The same as over the anomaly.”

The others still at this – there's a pretty obvious meaning behind Batman's stiff posture and tightly pressed lips.

“We're not making any accusations!” Clark says, raising hands in placating gesture and pulling on Batman's cape.

“Oh, are you not?” Elliot smiles pleasantly, but his smile does not reach his eyes. There's so much wrong with the situation that Kon subconsciously moves closer, as if to shield him.

Batman continues with his questions as if no one spoke at all.

“Am I right to presume you are the only magic-wielding person in the area?” he asks.

“ _Witch_ ,” Elliot says, and something almost dangerous flashes in his eyes. “You can say _witch_ , that's a word that you can use. And yes, I am the only resident _witch_ in the area.”

“Where have you been an hour ago?”

“There was a dead body found in the water and the fishermen asked me to take a look.”

To this, everyone stares at Elliot, their expressions changing dramatically like in shitty soap operas. Batman steps closer to Elliot in a menacing manner – but Elliot’s much shorter, smaller figure still does not step back.

“Why did they ask _you_?” Batman asks.

“Because the body was wrong. And because the island has no church – I am the closest to a priest they’ll ever get. And if you were going to ask about police and paramedics – there are none on the island. The highest authority is held by the witch, and now it’s me.”

“Then it mustn’t be a problem for you to show me the body,” Batman states instead of asking.

“Oh, sure,” Elliot says, both his gaze and voice steely. Kon knows somehow that there’s no way the stubborn bastard will back down now. “Would you like to do it right now?”

There’s insane thunderstorm happening outside and they have no means of transportation, but Batman, another fucking bastard that does not ever back down from the challenge says:

“Yes.”

And just like that, Elliot turns to the door and walks out, Batman following him.

Elliot, whose clothes are still wet and who was burning up with a fever some months ago after staying out on one chilly summer evening.

Before he even registers it, Superboy is running.

“Wait! You’re not going anywhere!” he yells, catching Batman’s cape and yanking him back by it.

This stops both Batman and Elliot before Kon has a chance to process what he’s just done _._ They’re standing on ‘the patio’ and Conner has their undivided attention. He turns to Elliot first:

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? There’s a thunderstorm and you’re already soaking wet!”

Then, Superboy turns to meet Batman’s soulless gaze of the white lenses in the mask.

“How the fuck did you jump to conclusions and accusations so fast, isn’t there the presumption of innocence of whatever?! You don’t ever do stuff like this, what are even your facts?! Or are you blaming him ‘cause you hate magic?!”

This is the moment his brain finally catches up and Kon fully understands that he’s just yelled at Batman.

And also said ‘fuck’, like, to Batman’s face.

He’s so screwed.

The sound of rain and thunder are filling the silence and the seconds feel like hours. And then Elliot says, in a voice colder then the weather they’re standing in:

“I don’t need you to fight my battles, Superboy.”

The voice sends a chill down Kon's spine, but maybe he's also a stubborn bastard who doesn't know when to stop.

“Oh really?” Kon snaps and strides closer to Elliot. He barely notices that Batman steps back. “You want me to spell it out for you? **‘Cause you don’t have a fucking spleen**! And you need someone to stop you from pulling stupid shit like this! Are you trying to die?!”

In some detached part of his brain Kon knows that he’s yelling. The bigger part of his brain is so worried that Elliot might get hurt because of his own stubbornness that he’s way past caring about it.

“Will you go change?” he adds, frustrated.

When Elliot looks at him, there’s cold fire burning in his blue eyes.

“Fine,” he spits and, whirling on his heel, storms back to the house.

The door is slammed in Conner’s face. He can hear the heavy, angry footsteps from the inside of the house and another door that must be on the second floor shutting with a loud bang that almost rattles the whole building.

Superboy sighs and goes back to the house, too, and he knows that Batman follows him in as well.

The others are actively avoiding Kon’s gaze so they must have heard everything he’d screamed outside.

Shit, Elliot is so going to _kill_ him.

At least Clark is not pretending he didn’t hear, ‘cause he approaches Batman with the patented Ma’s guilt-tripping look on his face.

“Bruce, what the heck,” he whispers lowly, but Superboy manages to catch it anyway.

“Names,” Batman says, but it sounds half-hearted at best, as if he’s second-guessing himself.

Kon almost wants to believe that under that all doom and gloom Batman _can_ and _is_ currently feeling guilty.

The others from the older generation gazer together to discuss something that Kon currently can’t pay attention to, ‘cause Cassie and Bart are circling him like sharks.

“Oooooooh, someone’s sleeping on the couch today,” Bart says teasingly, grinning ear to ear.

“Actually _you’re_ sleeping on the couch,” Kon answers sharply in reply. “ ‘cause you’re the only one who’s gonna fit on it.”

“What, trouble in heaven?” Cassie smiles.

There’s understanding and sympathy in her eyes and Kon deflates in response to it.

“I told you we’re not dating,” he says, his voice sounding tired this time.

Because he still remembers their First Grand Fight and he really hoped they could get past it with minimal damage. Or, at least, be okay for longer period then _this_. Was it too much to ask?!

“Do you want us to try and beat up Batman for you?” Cassie asks. “Like, I’m not sure we’d succeed, but if you need us to, I promise we’ll try.”

“Pff, no, thanks,” Kon snorts.

“Oh thank god,” Bart says and Cassie laughs at the look on his face.

Kon grins despite himself. He does have the best of friends.

Not a minute later, Elliot comes down the stairs, his steps slow and measured. He’s changed his clothes to fresh ones and his hair is dry. He looks calmer and much less prone to dying of hypothermia, and even if he hates Kon now – it was worth it.

Before Elliot gets a chance to speak, Clark nudges Batman to step forward. He does it with superspeed, so Kon thinks he may be the only one to notice.

“I must,” Batman says stiffly. “Apologize. My behavior was unreasonable and unfair to you.”

The other leaguers nod wisely behind him – the ‘nudging Batman to apologize’ thing must have been a collective effort.

Elliot and Batman lock gazes and whatever Elliot sees in the white lenses makes him relax.

“Apology accepted,” he says with a small nod.

“Okay, how about we start over?” Clark steps in, obviously satisfied with the outcome. “So why _exactly_ don’t the gadgets work?”

“This house is full of magic – it’s old and it accumulated a lot of spells along the years. If you look around, there’s only a handful of electronics and — well, technically they are more magic than tech now, because they have been enchanted multiple times. Also, the power here goes down at least once a week. Old magic and technology cancel each other out. I have a theory that it’s connected to the wavelengths of both, but, uh, it’s probably going to be to boring for you,” Elliot adds, sounding suddenly unsure. He gathers his bearings soon. “Anyway, whatever was over the sea must have been pretty big to be able to fry all of your devices. I’m going to get some sheets of paper and we can make a map for you to show me exactly where that anomaly was.”

This looks like an olive branch Elliot’s offering Batman and everyone’s suddenly holding their breathes. After a short pause, Batman nods. They move towards the table in the kitchen and put out some candles to light the room – with the storm worsening, it was decided to switch off the electronic lights.

“Oh, so this thing with magic is why you don’t have a phone?” Cassie asks.

Elliot blinks owlishly at her.

“Yes, but _how_ do you know I don’t have..?”

He trails off, because Kon sprints towards Cassie and grips her shoulder tightly.

“Ahaha, Wonder Girl’s just tired, so never mind her!” he laughs nervously and exasperatedly cheerful. “How about we set up someplace to sleep for those who are tired, while you guys work on the maps?”

“I’m not tired!” Cassie protests.

Bart appears behind Elliot just then and yawns in an exaggerated, staged way. Cassie yawns back.

This starts a chain reaction among the others, with Barry joining in first and passing it up to Aquaman next.

“There’s a few unused rooms upstairs, but I’ll need a minute to set up the beds,” Elliot says and turns to Kon, “Superboy, would you mind helping me?”

Kon just nods and follows him upstairs, floating a few inches over the floor. Conner’s only been on the second floor once, while dumping Elliot's sorry (but very attractive) ass into the bed when the guy was severely sleep-deprived, so everything here is new and interesting to him. Looking around, he doesn’t notice that Elliot has stopped and turned around to face him, so he nearly crashes into him. Thank his Kryptonian DNA for the superpowers and being able to catch himself before it happens.

“I’m sorry,” Elliot says and Kon gets a horrible sense of deja vu. “I know you just wanted to help.”

“Yes,” Kon says, squaring his shoulders. “I just waned to make sure you’re okay. And now I’m probably going to go missing, like, mysteriously, ‘cause Batman must be super-pissed at me.”

“Oh my god you said _fuck_ to Batman’s face,” Elliot whispers melodramatically and giggles.

Con groans at that, once again having to come to terms with the fact that he _had_ said it. But, looking at Elliot’s warm smile, he grins despite himself:

“See? The crazy things I’m ready to do for you!”

“Oh Superboy,” Elliot says, putting his hand over his heart in an over-dramatic gesture. “Be still my foolish heart.”

His eyes are light and fond, filled to the brim with emotion. The smile on his face is nearly the same as back then, on the first day they met, but instead of blinding – it’s almost unbearably warm. Kon wants to crawl and curl up in it’s warms, and never leave.

They were having a moment, so of course someone had to come and ruin it.

Bart zips up to them and grins devilishly at Kon from behind Elliot's back.

“Everyone wanted to see if you needed help so I went to check on you to make sure you’re okay and we won’t _interfere_ ,” he explains, making air-quotes for the last word with his fingers.

Bart ends up saddled with making beds in the rooms Elliot shows them, so Conner feels justifiably vindicated. Kon’s given some towels to give to the guests and Elliot grabs pencils and some other supplies for the maps from his room. They also bring down candles, having decided to stop using electric lights that already started blinking after every lightning from the storm.

When they get back to the kitchen, Cassie approaches Elliot.

“You said there’s no church? So, they’re like, still worshiping Hellenic gods or something like that?”

“No. This place -” Elliot smiles, like it’s something dear to him - “has always had a mind of it’s own. No gods had ever managed to stuck here.”

“What’s about graveyards and funerals? There’s no menacingly creepy angels over the gravestones here?”

“Oh, there’s no graveyard at all. Cremation is common practice here – ashes ‘given back to the sea’ and all that jazz. In fact, it has been like this for centuries.”

“Oh this is really fantastic, I mean, not the ashes and stuff, but, historically speaking, this place is so different. It’s a dream for any historian and culturologist! I bet Wonder Woman’s gonna be mad jealous I’ve been here!”

Seeing them talk is an amazing thing, because the conversation flows easily, as if they are used to it. They seem to get along effortlessly and Kon sooo called it.

While Elliot and Cassie talk, Bart tugs on Kon’s jacket.

“Shit, man, you _are_ lost,” Bart grins.

Kon can already feel his face hitting up.

“I'm not. Not _that_ much!”

“You kidding?! I've seen how you look at him!”

“And how's that?”

“You look at him like no one else exists around you two. Like he’s the only thing you see.”

Bart’s smile’s just turned into a soft instead of a teasing one and Kon is definitely blushing now.

“Cut it out,” he hisses at Bart and escapes towards Clark.

Which doesn’t help at all, because Clark gives him a knowing look and pats his shoulder.

So Kon busies himself with a self-assigned task to lead the ones who are tired to the spare rooms. It turns out that almost all of the leaguers came back from missions recently, and straight after it were swept away by Batman to participate in the training. The way they are muttering about it under their breathes makes Kon feel sudden camaraderie with the older generation.

Only Batman, Superman and Elliot stay in the kitchen – Bart and Cassie choose to stay on the couch together in a tangled mass of limbs. When Kon comes back, they are already snoring softly.

Clark has somehow acquired a new cup of tea that he’s holding in front of his face to try and muffle the snickering. ‘Cause on the table, right on top of the maps, Cookie is lounging lazily. Batman tries to take a pencil from the side of the table and when he approaches it, Cookie starts hissing. The threatening sound she makes gradually lessens as soon as Batman takes his hand away slowly. Then, he tries again, with the same result. Cookie’s hissing fills the room and changes in volume, as if someone is playing with the volume buttons on the radio.

Elliot, who has disappeared to some other room, comes back and grabs Cookie from the table. He holds the cat protectively to his chest, but has to take a few steps away from Batman to stop her from hissing and thumping her tail in irritation.

“Why is it doing it,” Batman says in a flat tone, looking at the cat.

Elliot shrugs, not meeting Batman’s eyes.

“She's probably offended there's a rodent bigger than her in the room,” he says easily, cradling his cat in his arms like one would a baby.

Kon’s not sure if he’s seeing things, but it might’ve just looked like a corner of Batman’s lips twitched up, which is a bat-version of roaring laughter. No, it must’ve been a trick of the light.

The two of them start working on the maps and the technical language of cartography is threatening to put Kon to sleep. Superboy ends up sitting by Clark, who starts asking carefully about the farm, Ma and Krypto, and the neutral common topics lull them into a peaceful conversation. They move on to talking about Metropolis, Lois and Jon next, discussing nothing serious. It still takes a lot of time, because the next time Conner turns to Batman and Elliot, their maps are fully finished, marks and text written neatly.

The two of them are currently having a starring contest over the maps. The most terrifying thing is – Elliot seems to be winning. Batman grunts something and nods his head, handing Elliot a pencil.

Kon stares as Elliot leans down to the map, turning the pencil in his fingers. He looks stunning in the candlelight. A strand of hair falls over his eyes and Elliot huffs, irritated, tucking it behind his ear.

“You need a haircut,” Batman says suddenly.

Conner looks at Clark and thinks that the shell-shocked expression on his face must be mirroring his own.

“I like it like this,” Elliot answers, not even looking up, like it’s some kind of an old argument he’s used to.

Like there’s nothing unusual in this, and okay, Kon’s officially naming today the weirdest day of this month.

Batman seems to think that, too, because he turns around and leaves the kitchen, disappearing to the furthest corner of the living room. Superman follows. Conner can’t see them from this angle, but he strains his hearing to eavesdrop.

“Bruce,” Clark laughs. “You can't adopt _every_ blue eyed dark haired boy you see.”

“Names in the field,” Batman snaps.

It doesn’t sound that angry, rather more confused. Come to think of it, Elliot does have dark hair and blue eyes, and generally resembles Bruce Wayne’s kids. Maybe Batman didn’t get a lot of sleep today, too, and got Elliot confused with one of his sons?

While Batman and Superman continue whispering to each other, Kon sneaks up to Elliot. The guy frowns at the maps.

“How’s progress?” Kon asks, trying to lean on the table in an effortlessly attractive way.

“Slow,” Elliot sighs, not paying much attention to him. “Would you pass the knife, please?”

Kon follows where Elliot’s pointing and sees a knife that was laying on the counter top. Superboy uses his TTK to pull it towards Elliot. He hopes it looks impressive.

Before he has time to ask why Elliot needed it, the guy presses the blade to his forefinger and draws blood.

“Hey, what the hell?” Kon yelps, looking at the drops of blood dripping onto the maps.

Instead of explaining, Elliot hushes him. He whispers something under his nose, and even when Superboy tries to listen in – he doesn’t understand a thing.

Clark and Batman come back to the kitchen just then and Kon immediately straightens up - because of the looks on their faces.

“Um, so, does it snow a lot around here?” Clark asks uneasily.

Both Superboy and Elliot turn to the windows – and yes, outside it’s snowing.

“Not in this part and even if it does, the last snowfall was registered over 10 years ago and much later into the winter,” Elliot scoffs and starts towards the door. “This is wrong. Just like the body was wrong.”

Elliot throws the front door open, stepping into the chilly weather. Kon, along with Batman and Superman, rushes after him.

It’s pitch-dark, just before the sunrise. Elliot looks intently into the horizon and the others end up doing the same.

“What was wrong with the body?” Batman asks.

“The teeth marks and the damage that would usually be attributed to scavenger animals – none of the animals that have been registered by the marine biologists of the area can leave marks like that.”

The sun must be rising somewhere over the fog and snow, because it becomes lighter and lighter by the minute. Somewhere far away in the waters, Kon can hear weird creaking and rumbling noises, as if a huge wooden ship was being ravaged by the sea.

“What do you suppose left the marks?” Clark asks, his voice strained.

Something howls in the distance, loud and piercing. Cookie hisses in reply, hiding behind Elliot’s legs.

“Something big,” Elliot says and points to the horizon. “Something like that.”

There’s silhouettes moving on the horizon, gigantic and twisted in shape. Kon’s not sure, but he supposes he’s seen some claws, arms and wings.

“Maps!” Elliot yelps and bolts to the door.

The droplets of blood that Elliot has dropped onto the maps are black and they’re smoldering, filling the room with heavy, rotting smell. They also traveled along the map, ending up near the carefully drawn islands. But the biggest cluster of the drops, if Kon’s not wrong, is exactly where they’ve just seen the shadowy silhouettes.

Elliot mutters something under his breath, but Kon only catches “dead people magic” and a heart-felt “shit”. Batman and Superman are looking at the maps, too. Soon, the others join them, obviously having been woken up by the howling. They encircle the table and ask a lot of questions all at once.

“Silence,” Batman commands in a stern voice. Then, he turns to Elliot. “Explain.”

The guy locks gaze with him, his face serious.

“We need to evacuate the civilians,” Elliot says. "Now!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch title - somehow I have no idea where I took the quote from?! IDK how this happened, but it's not mine, so...
> 
> also, I finally put the ''lighthouse keeper' convo in the text, yay. (did I start writing this story down 'cause this exact dialog won't leave my head? yes. yes, I did.)
> 
> btw this is the 100 pages anniversary. If you're here, you've read 100 pages of my story and I am very proud of you!
> 
> tumblr is dying so it's the perfect time for me to share my acc there:  
> [tmblr](http://unluckyloki.tumblr.com/)  
> come chat if you wanna scream about comics\ask about this fic
> 
> The next chapter will be huge and will, most likely, eat a part of my soul.  
> So I'll need your patience and support 'till it's here!


	14. there was fire around us so I should have known why...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s going to be okay.  
> Elliot promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW canon-typical violence, blood, body horror

Elliot comes up with a plan that is fast and efficient – split into teams, carry out the evacuation while one of the teams is sent to observe the creatures in the sea, call for the other League or Titans members to join and engage if necessary. Maybe the fact that he could make up a strategy on the spot should’ve surprised them more, but the shock at Batman’s reaction overrules it – because Batman agrees to the plan without any doubt or questions.

They’re doing the first part with the steps of evacuate-observe-regroup and everyone rushes away to do their part.

Everyone – but Superboy.

“Why are you still here?” Elliot asks, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“I’ve decided to stick by you.”

“Kon, I don’t _need_ your protection.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Conner say, letting his conviction that it’s true show in his voice. “But maybe you’d want a partner?”

Elliot watches him for a long moment.

And then smiles.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Kon exhales a shaky breath and smiles, too.

Elliot’s about to go back to reaching for huge old-smelling books on the shelf for analyzing whatever he’s done to the maps, when Flash comes back. He was in the group supposed to take the villagers of Naxos to the mainland Greece, where, as Superman promptly confirmed, it was not snowing and no anomalies were happening.

So it’s no surprise that Elliot stops whatever he was doing with the books and steps closer to Flash.

“What’s wrong?”

“The villagers won’t listen! When we told them that they needed to evacuate, they just shrugged and went on with their day, as if nothing happened!”

“Did you tell them that _I_ sent you?” Elliot asks, scowling.

Superboy thinks the scowl reminds him a bit of Robin.

Ha, Elliot and Robin, what a stupid comparison.

“No, I didn’t,” Barry says, as if only now remembering that Elliot asked him to do that. Now, he sounds desperate. “But we’re the Justice League!”

“And it means _nothing_ to the people on this island,” Elliot huffs, irritated, and moves towards the clothes hooks by the door, snatching his jacket. “Superboy, will you take me to the village?”

Kon’s about to say yes, when suddenly, Impulse crashes into him, all shaking and babbling 100 words per second. It’s all so mangled that Kon can’t even guess what he’s talking about.

“Hey, calm down and tell me what’s going on!” he demands, grabbing Bart by the shoulders.

It doesn’t help at all and so Conner has to turn to Barry for help.

“He… isn’t making much sense,” Flash answers to his questioning gaze, seemingly as confused as Superboy is.

Elliot pushes past them and says sternly, in the most serious no-nonsense voice Kon’s ever heard:

“Impulse, stop!”

The thing that happens next is already taking an honorary place in Kon’s ‘weird things of the day’ list - ‘cause Bart _does_ stop and also shuts up.

“Sit,” Elliot says, and Bart takes a sit at the table. “Drink this. Breathe. And then tell us what’s wrong.”

Elliot pushes a glass of water into Bart’s hands. Impulse listens to him, again, and only after finishing the glass and taking a deep breath starts talking, this time at more understandable speed.

“The Green Lantern went to the coast ‘cause me and Wonder Girl saw weird figures moving there and they were coming from the water and they were people but not actually people and then Wonder Girl checked and they were on other islands too, so now she and Green Lantern went to fight them and I was told to come tell you!”

“What the hell do you even mean by this, what ‘people but not people’?!”

Bart pours himself another glass of water, throws it back in a pour imitation of a disgruntled sheriff in cowboy movies and announces:

“Zombies!”

Superboy swears, Elliot groans loudly and Flash says pensively ‘oh, haven’t had _that_ in a while’ under his nose.

“So, what you’re telling me is that Green Lantern, who was with Flash in the designated team, went to the coast to check on the zombies, which means he left the village without any supervision?” Elliot asks, his voice carefully blank.

“Yes?” Bart says and then shrinks under Elliot’s gaze.

“You two need to let all of the other teams know about this,” Elliot nods to Flash and Impulse. “Superboy, wait here. You’re taking me to the village at top speed, but first I need to get something.”

Elliot sprints up the stairs. While he’s there, Impulse tugs at Barry’s costume and they both disappear.

Elliot comes back with a staff in his hand – it’s dark-green with red twine tied around it’s ends and it’s covered in some dark Chinese symbols that Kon can barely see. Oh, well, even if he could, it’s not like he can read ‘em.

“Is this a magical staff?” he asks instead.

“Sure,” Elliot snorts. “If I throw it at someone hard enough – they fall.”

“You don’t have to make fun of me all the time,” Kon grumbles under his nose.

But he still takes Elliot gently into his arms and flies off with him towards the village.

The snow has stopped and it’s getting hotter by the minute. The creatures on the horizon are roaring – with the fog cleared up Kon can see what look like some cheap horror movie monstrosities, like a bad sculptor just slapped a lot of parts of different animals together. It should look funny, instead – it’s making his blood chill at how wrong it is. Also, there’s way too many teeth.

They land on the main square and the village stills. It’s Kon’s first time here, he’s a Super and he’s just flown here, but the people are not paying much attention to him – they are all looking at Elliot.

Among the people here, Elliot squares his shoulders and lifts his chin, a confident but serious expression settles on his face – he has authority here and he knows it. He speaks to the villagers in what Kon presumes must be Greek, and they nod and move towards the houses quickly but steadily, without any visible panic.

“I told them to get the most important things for them from their houses,” Elliot explains to him. “They have 10 minutes.”

One man separates himself from the crowd and approaches them. His hair is partly gray, even though he seems to young to have so much of it. He’s wearing a very formal suit.

The man starts talking to Elliot rapidly, his gestures contained but visibly nervous. Elliot swears under his breath and turns back to Superboy.

“Sea is no longer safe.”

“What? Why?”

The man that’s stayed standing near them finally pays attention to Kon.

“The zombie-things, they are in the water,” the man explains in slightly accented English. “Two separate crews of our fishermen has just returned – they all saw at least a few on their way from the shore.”

“Do you know if any other crew went out this morning?”

“No, only the ones I mentioned,” the man answers.

“Dimitris, thank you for staying behind to tell us about this,” Elliot says to the man. “You can go with the others to take anything you need from your house.”

Despite the grim mood that’s settled around, the man smiles.

“Eh, I’ve got my passport on me all the time,” he says, patting his breast-pocket. “For anything else I’m not worried, with our witch there to protect us.”

Elliot returns the soft smile Dimitris sends him and lets the man squeeze his hands in a warm gesture. Then, the man leaves the two of them alone.

“I could fly them over the sea?” Kon suggests, feeling suddenly useless and unwanted here, with Elliot not paying attention to him.

“No, it’ll take too much time and you may be needed here.”

Elliot takes his time thinking, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration. Finally, he says:

“We’ll go to the top of the mountain on the eastern side.”

"What's there?"

Elliot takes a deep breath, as if he has to still himself before answering.

"A temple," he says, "A very old one."

For whatever reason, Elliot insists on taking a shortcut through the forest. How is going into the woods that are in the exactly opposite direction of the eastern side of the island is a 'shortcut' Kon has no idea.

No mater how weird it is, the villagers listen without question. They calmly form a line, holding on to one another. Elliot explains to Conner that he needs them to be in contact, so he can take them through the forest safely.

Kon wonders what can be not safe about a forest. Whatever it is, it must be something all of the people here know about, because they quiet when they finally approach the first trees.

A kid who looks younger than Jon comes up to them. His hair is disheveled and wild, looking a lot like Bart’s. The fact that the boy’s eyes are brown and huge, filled with emotion to the brim, makes them even more alike.

Elliot crouches in front of the kid and listens to his stammering words and then nods and says something to him in a soothing voice. Then, he takes the boy’s hand into his, the two of them at the head of the line. He offers his other hand to Superboy. Kon takes the offered hand and can't help thinking that the first time they held hands could've been under better circumstances.

The track through the forest is short but... disconcerting. The more Kon tries to pay attention to the road they’re taking, the more lost he gets. The trees look all the same, then they look nothing like the ones he’s just passed by. The smells get mixed and change mid-way. There’s strange sounds and what Kon could almost swear was giggling that one time they passed by a big crooked tree. There are no words, though – because all of the villagers keep their heads down and hush their kids if they try to talk.

They leave the forest unexpectedly, after a turn that takes them to the clearing. Inexplicably for Kon, they do end up on the top of a small mountain, with a small round building with white walls and roof. Snow here hasn’t melted yet, and in contrasts wildly with small red flowers that grow all over the ground here. While Elliot gathers the villagers around him to give some kind of instructions, Kon wonders where he might have seen these flowers.

He looks up when the noise raises – voices speaking over one another in worried, hushed whispers. It’s all Greek to him (heh), but he notices how the people keep looking at the white building behind them.

“They’re worried they’d disturb someone there,” a voice beside Kon explains, making him jump.

The man that approached them at the main square looks at him and smiles.

“Who’s there to disturb? Didn’t Elliot say it’s an old temple?”

“He’s saying there is no one to disturb,” the man explains. “Anymore.”

And this? This is why people make so many horror movies about small towns.

Who even _says_ shit like this?

Creepy and cryptic.

Creepily cryptic.

And then you just add zombies to the mix and some otherworldly abominations on the horizon.

While Kon thinks this, the villagers fill a big, uneven circle that Elliot had drawn on the ground. The dirt is also filled with symbols and runes. Elliot stands in the center, with the others surrounding him. It’s a tight fit, but the villagers still manage to have a few feet separating them from their witch.

Then, Elliot calls for Superboy to join them.

“What’s this thing do?” Kon asks, standing beside Elliot.

Elliot raises his hands, palms up and thin fingers curled up. His hand brushes Superboy’s arm, but he doesn’t move away. Neither does Kon.

“It’s a protection spell,” Elliot explains as the symbols on the ground slowly start to glow blue. “All who are in the circle right now will be safe here and could leave it if needed. But, no one and nothing that’s not here right now can enter this circle. Now – hush, I need to concentrate.”

Blue glow grows into flames that spill out of the symbols. The blue flames rise up and form four balls. Kon’s a mature person and he isn’t gonna joke about it.

Elliot’s too busy with chanting something under his nose to appreciate the joke any way.

It doesn’t take long before the symbols blink twice and dissipate. Elliot quiets and lets out a long, tired sigh. When he opens his eyes, for a moment there Kon can almost swear they gleam golden.

Elliot blinks and his eyes are blue. Kon must’ve been seeing things.

He looks at Elliot, they both still standing really close. Conner wonders briefly if the tingling in his fingers is from the magic that’s run it’s course through the land here, or from the small, soft smile playing on Elliot’s lips.

The villagers around them start to relax, moving around easily. Lull of conversations picks up, punctuated by laughs here and there.

Then, a woman screams.

Both Superboy and Elliot turn to the source of the sound, but the woman wails about something in the language Kon can’t understand, so he leaves it to Elliot. Who pales after the woman’s rapidly said words and grabs her by the hands, steadying her. Elliot ask her questions, short and precise.

There is one word the woman is bawling, again and again, and Kon thinks it’s a name.

“A kid’s gotten lost,” Elliot explains to him after having finished questioning the woman. “She swears he’s been with us when we entered the circle. His name is Theo, he’s eight. He was the one who walked with me through the forest.”

Other women step up to take Elliot’s place, trying to comfort the crying woman.

Kon remembers the kid, the one who reminded him of Bart. He was wearing pretty simple, dark jacket, so there’s nothing bright to catch their attention, but they’ll have to try anyway.

Elliot tells Superboy to follow him from above and monitor any possible threats, his commands serious and precise. His voice makes Superboy straighten his back and nod in agreement. That’s some real leader material there, if you ask Kon.

Elliot takes off a bracelet with honey-colored stones from his arm and puts it on his palm, covering it with another hand. He whispers something onto it in a fervent tone. Then, he opens his palms, looks at the bracelet and starts walking. Kon follows him down the path and some stone steps cut out directly in the rock of the small mountain. They walk down to the shore and further away from the temple, but the kid’s still not in sight.

As a matter of fact, nothing is – there’s just some rocks on the shore and the creepy creatures far away on the horizon.

Kon looks at them and thinks that they must’ve moved closer, because they look bigger. Their roaring is getting louder, too, and Kon can see the League members gathering around before the creatures, forming a semi-circle between them and the land – in case those abominations attack.

Somehow, with their luck, Kon doubts they will stay where they are.

There’s also the issue of the air around them getting warmer by the minute, and the sun visibly dimming. It’s just a few hours after the sunrise, maybe even less, but it feels like the light is fading again.

A sharp cry brings him back to the situation at hand.

“Superboy!” Elliot shouts. “To the right!”

The smell gets to him before anything else.

Oh. That’s what Bart meant when he mentioned zombies.

Once, Kon forgot to put the freshly bought meat into the fridge. He left the bag outside on the porch in the heat. It stayed there for the whole day and, when Ma finally noticed that he didn’t do what she asked, the horrid smell already soaked through the whole porch.

Here, the smell of rotting flesh is so potent Kon feels bile raise in his throat.

The things that vaguely resemble humans are moving slowly, but steadily. Their flesh is ash-gray and bloated and they are missing some limbs, but that doesn’t stop them from moving towards a kid who’s hunched on the ground behind a small rock.

Superboy only has a few seconds before the creatures get to the boy, so he barrels into the first two at super-speed. He is met with less resistance than he would've thought, and the bodies he collides with are soft and his fists sink into the flash like it’s mashed potatoes – and ugh, he’s never-ever gonna eat that again.

He tries not to think about the sickening sound the tearing muscles made and rushes towards the rock the zombies were approaching. Kon gathers the kid into his arms securely and turns to Elliot, ready to sprang into action if the zombies attack him.

He shouldn't've worried.

The bodies of two zombies are on the ground, their heads and limbs separated from the torso. A head of the third one flies by Kon, missing him by mere inches. In succession of fast movements, Elliot swings the staff he’s had on him since they left the cottage. The last zombie falls apart into pieces.

The staff’s kinda opened up and gotten longer, golden symbols in the middle of it.

Inexplicably, Kon knows that it’s a collapsible bo staff that Elliot’s holding in his hands. One of Batman’s lessons on weaponry must’ve stuck, after all.

Elliot gets the staff back to it’s more compact size in a swift, practiced motion and runs up to Kon, who’s floating a few feet off the ground, still clutching the kid to his chest.

Oh. The kid.

Conner puts the sniffling child down. The kid’s swaying oh his feet. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, his face wet with snot and tears.

“Theo!” Elliot calls, supporting the kid on his feet. “Are you hurt? Look at m...”

Elliot stops abruptly and swears under his nose, finally noticing that, in panic, he’s spoken in English. He switches to Greek and starts bombarding the kid with worried questions.

Kon steps aside, letting them have a moment to themselves, and flies up a little, to get a better vantage point for surveying the area.

It’s not good.

He floats higher and yep, definitely not good – the zombies are all over the coast, coming from the water or already moving away from the shore. Some come in groups, some are solitary. It’s not like dealing with them was hard, Elliot managed to take down three of them in mere minutes, but the amount of them may present a problem – there are just too many.

Also, Impulse and Wonder Girl have joined the mentors on the line of defense against the bigger – literally huge – problem, which are the horrible abominations in the sea. There seem to be more of them now, and Kon can faintly see a light line, like a crack, that he’s thought to be a cloud earlier. That thing is totally not a cloud, it’s starting to glow menacingly. Superboy wonders if the others had noticed, but then Elliot calls for him and he has to get down.

“So, what happened?” Kon asks, nodding at the kid.

Theo is gripping Elliot’s hand desperately. From the way the kid’s leaning into the guy, it must be uncomfortable, but Elliot doesn’t seem to mind.

“He says he’s seen a ‘kitty’ and thought that was Cookie,” Elliot frowns. “But she’d never lead a child away from the others and into _danger_!”

Kon admits that sometimes he’d also almost believe in Krypto’s near human intelligence and emotions. But come on, Cookie’s just a cat.

He thinks it’s best not to voice his opinion to Elliot, so Superboy simply shrugs.

“Coulda been any other cat, right?”

“Probably,” Elliot shrugs, too, but if he wanted it to look nonchalant – he failed. “Whatever, there’s other pressing matters right now. I need you to take Theo back to the temple and remind the others to stay there no matter what.”

“What about you?”  
“I’ll dispose off as many of this things as I can,” Elliot says, his eyes blazing with determination, the bo staff at the ready.

And if it’s making Kon both scared and aroused – well…

Elliot persuades the kid to trust Superboy and Kon tries to smile at him reassuringly. He hefts Theo up in his arms and takes off towards the temple at the speed that’s a bit higher then reasonable with the small kid in his arms. It’s just that leaving Elliot all alone with the zombies makes worry stir in Kon’s stomach.

Kon drops the kid into his mother’s welcoming hands and shouts to the villagers the reminder Elliot asked to pass – he hopes that that guy from the square, Dimitrii or whatever, will translate for them.

As soon as that’s done, he flies back at top speed.

There’s much more zombies that were there when he left, but it turns out there wasn’t much to worry about.

Elliot moves in a whirlwind of fluid motions, his hits landing on the creatures surrounding him without fail. Kon barrels through the crowd of zombies and lands beside Elliot.

“I think the others are out in the sea, sightseeing the bigger fish,” Kon yells to Elliot through the sounds of the fight.

“Then let’s try to take out as many as we can, I don’t wanna them accidentally wondering up the mountain and scaring my people,” Elliot answers.

The two of them are standing back to back now, Elliot's staff and Kon’s fists at the ready.

Zombies seem stupid enough, they don’t have any strategy except the urge to get closer to their warm flesh and pull at clothes and skin. Kon doesn’t wanna know what would happen if he lets them get closer, so he punches them and doesn’t ask any questions. It’s disgusting and there’s grime and bile and rotten flesh all over his costume.

He’s just punched through one especially rotten zombie’s stomach. There’s guts twisted around his hand and they’re dripping with something dark and gooey.

“Evil robots woulda been better than this!” Superboy yelps, appalled.  
“Anything would!” Elliot agrees, delivering a nasty kick to another zombie’s head.

Kon briefly wonders how they manage to talk and fight at the same time, but then more zombies arrive, probably drawn by the fight and the only two living people in the vicinity.

It’s the first time he and Elliot fight side by side – hell, it’s the first time he even gets to find out that Elliot can fight – but pretty quickly they fall in a rhythm that feels engraved into Conner’s very bones. They are like clockwork, moving in tandem. There’s no surprise that the zombies stand no chance – it’s been mere minutes and now only a few of them are left.

Kon shouldn’t have worried, indeed.

Elliot’s good.

He’s great, actually, and he doesn’t need Superboy’s help at all.

He fights like it’s a form of art, his body moving gracefully in a dance of punches.

Elliot finishes off the last zombie with a fluid movement of his staff.

There’s multiple limbs and torsos with or without heads laying on the ground around them, their skin ashen and breaking in some places like overcooked sausages. The light of the day slowly gives way to glimmering unnatural twilight. It’s also unnaturally warm, hot even, for winter.

Elliot’s shrugged off his jacket at some point, his skin is glistening with sweat and there’s undoubtedly some pieces of zombies on his shoes and clothes. There’s a strip of ashen-colored _something_ stuck in Elliot’s hair and Kon reaches out absentmindedly to take it off him. It should be gross, but instead, when Elliot lifts his blue eyes to him, Kon can’t stop wondering at how beautiful he looks.

So Kon can’t help it.

He really can’t.

He pulls Elliot closer by the lapel of his red plaid shirt and kisses him, the zombie grime and wet sand be damned.

Elliot’s lips are chapped – probably because of that stupid habit of biting them while he thinks, the one that’s always left Kon _staring_. But they’re warm and something akin to electricity flows through Conner’s blood at the simple touch of their mouths. Elliot exhales into Kon’s mouth and moans. Kon curls his fingers into the fabric of Elliot’s shirt, pressing their bodies together and putting his hand on his hip.

Then, Elliot pushes him away.

He’s looking at Kon as if this surprised him, as if Kon hadn’t spent the past few month looking at him longingly. Looking at him like he’s his _world_.

Elliot covers his lips with one shaking hand and whispers, whimpers into it:

“Not like this – _god_ not like _this_!”

His cheeks are flushed and his hair's curling at the ends and he's the most beautiful thing Kon’s ever seen and he can’t have him.

“What did you..?” Elliot ask, finally taking his hand off his mouth and stepping away from Kon.

Elliot’s trembling.

He looks terrified.

Is he terrified of Kon now?

“I thought you knew!” Kon says desperately. “I thought you knew that I...”

“No! No, you can’t. You. You don’t even _know_ me!” Elliot’s voice sounds even more desperate that Kon’s. “You don’t even know who _I am_.”

Kon takes a step forward before he realizes he’s about to invade the guy’s personal space. Kon stops a step away from him and it feels the furthest they’ve ever been.

“Then _let me_ get to know you! Tell me, I _want to_ know all about you!” Kon’s seriously about to beg. “Please!”

Elliot takes the step that’s left between them, takes Kon’s hands into his and presses his lips to his fingers. Then, the guy closes his eyes, pressing his forehead to Superboy’s hands. Elliot’s heart is beating frantically.

Kon doesn’t understand what’s going on anymore.

“I want to, I do, so much – oh my god, _Kon_ ,” he says his name like a prayer. “I. I just. I can’t! But, but I’ll try, I will try to, I promise, I’ll find a way, just. Just, please, _please_ , trust me on this!”

Superboy’s not sure if the understands what the guy’s broken mumbling is about, but Elliot’s eyes shine with so much desperation and hope, that there’s only one answer he can give.

“I trust you,” Kon answers softly.

Elliot looks at him for a long moment, as if searching for something. Whatever it is, he must’ve found it, because he exhales a shaky breath and lets go off Kon’s hands.

“You should go,” Elliot says, his voice deflated and shoulders hunched. “There’s. Something on the horizon, I think they’ll need your help.”

Kon follows Elliot’s gaze and yep, there it is – the crack in the sky that he’s seen before has gotten bigger and there’s _something_ pushing and pulling on it from the outside, trying to get out.

While they’ve been having their moment, the League had already engaged with the eldritch creatures.

It doesn’t look good.

Superboy floats up, but turns to Elliot at the last moment.

“Promise me we’ll talk about this,” he says, uncharacteristically serious. “Promise me you’ll still be here.”

“I promise I’ll be here,” Elliot says, his voice firm.

Conner nods and turns around to fly to the others.

It’s going to be okay.

Elliot promised.

***

 

Tim picks up his bo staff that’s been laying on the ground, discarded. He tries to focus on cleaning the sand off it – instead on what’s just happened. His hands are still shaking.

He takes a step towards the rock where they found Theo. All that thing with the boy doesn’t sit well with him, so Tim lets his detective instincts take over. He looks for footprints and steps away from the beach.

Clapping starts.

Tim abruptly turns to the direction of the bigger rocks, the once that are tall enough to hide a person behind them. A big orange cat sits there. It looks a lot like Cookie, but there’s a spiral patter on it’s forehead. When the cat looks up at Tim, he can see that it’s eyes are red.

“That was such a drama!” a grating, childish voice laughs. “Shakespeare would have _cried_!”

Tim’s in a fighting stance before he can even think about it, his muscles strung up and the bo staff at the ready.

When a figure steps out of the shadow, Tim grips his weapon so tight his knuckles go white.

“ _Klarion_ ,” the sound of it is like a roar in Tim’s throat.

The witch boy laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this house we don't say 'I love you', we say 'I trust you' and 'I promise'
> 
> I'm gonna try to give you the next chapter some time next week, 'cause a part of it is already finished, but let's see how it works out.
> 
>  
> 
> [ ❤ ](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdssbxnNJo1rkz9b7o1_500.gif)


	15. ...the touch of his hands were as cold as his eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unlikely team is forged under unlikely circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW canon-typical violence, torture, blood, heavy angst
> 
> mood & title of the chapter sponsored by [ the song](https://youtu.be/o_q951H3gW4)
> 
> there's probably a lot of mistakes, but I'm gonna fix them tomorrow!

“You!” Tim growls. “What are you doing here?”

Klarion hops up to sit on one of the stones and swings his legs, stretching his arms lazily. Tim really wants to throw his bo staff at the boy, but readjusts his grip on it to lower it instead.

“Could ask you the same question! It’s been a while since I last saw you, isn’t it? You don’t frequent that teenage superhero club anymore, but I see you somehow kept the connections,” Klarion snickers.

Tim feels his hands go cold. The words taste sour in his mouth when he says:

“Are you telling me your half-assed spell was so _shittily_ cast that even _you_  don’t remember why I’m forced to be away from my friends and family? Did you forget what you’ve done, you good-for-nothing witch-boy?”

Klarion looks away for a moment. When their eyes meet – his eyes are blazing with anger. He hops off the rock and stands to his full height, baring his teeth. Tim notes with dark glee that he’s now a full head taller than the witch-boy.

“The spell was fine! It was a good spell, a work of art! I do not expect some _hick witch_ to be able to appreciate the level of craft it took!” Klarion says, stomping his feet angrily. “And it’s not like you’ve got anything to complain about! I’ve seen you near that old temple, with all of the stupid locals groveling before you! You have gotten yourself a really nice place here, haven’t you?”

“Wouldn’t have had to look for a ‘nice place’ if you haven’t ruined. My. Life,” Tim says trough his teeth.

Klarion laughs, throwing his head back.

“'Ruined your life' - oh, _please_  That sounds like something agonized adolescence say in those plays from television!”

“Is this a game to you?” Tim asks, and his voice sounds calm, way too calm, devoid of any feelings.

“Yes, pretty much,” Klarion snorts, as if it's something that should have been obvious.

When he looks up at Tim, his eyes flicker with something dark.

“All of those stupid humans practically worship you like a _god_. Because, oh, look at you, you are not one of the dozen of robins anymore – you have become the Witch for this place! So what do you want from me? Sympathy?” Klarion grins and it compliments wickedly the way his hair is styled. “You’re going to tell me that you haven’t felt the power flow through your veins and _liked_ it?”

He seems genuinely amused and his smile is condescending and Tim sees red.

It’s not like that.

It’s not true.

It’s _unfair_.

Being here wasn’t a choice, it was a _necessity_.

Becoming a witch was a lifeline, something to help him get rid of the spell and get him back home.

Klarion’s laughing loudly, holding his sides with his hands as if he thinks he might burst because of how funny it is.

Tim wants him to stop.

“Stop. Stop laughing. I. Said. Stop!”

The laughing stops abruptly as Klarion is hauled up in the air, being held there by an invisible force. Teekl is swept away to the side, but Tim doesn’t pay much thought to it. The force is at Tim’s fingertips, his to command and he has Klarion’s undivided attention.

There’s one thing, only one that he wants, that he dreamed of forcing Klarion to do for over a year now.

“Take your spell off me,” Tim commands in an authoritative tone.

Klarion opens and closes his mouth, but no sound comes out. Tim thinks that magic might have taken his wish for Klarion to shut up a bit too literally, so he pulls the power back to let the witch-boy speak.

"I will not!" is what Klarion yells at him. "And it's not like you can force me to!"

 _Force him to_  seems like a good idea – a great, marvelous idea and the power that's raging right now through Tim's veins sings of how it loves it.

Klarion screams when the invisible force squeezes him. He freezes like that, arms and legs askew, unable to move.

"I said -" Tim says slowly, making sure he is heard - "Take your spell off."

Klarion laughs, but it sounds fake and then ends abruptly, when magic presses on him even harder then before. It seems like it gives him trouble with breathing, but the witch-boy still says through gasps:

"I know you are simply. Bluffing! Your people. Don't kill! And I am not. Afraid of you!"

"I am not with 'my people' anymore, am I? Thanks to _you_ ," Tim's voice is dripping with poison. "Why would I have to listen to 'the rule'? "

Tim doesn't know what Klarion sees on his face, but it must be _something_ , because the witch-boy pales to the point where he looks gray.

Oh, or, maybe, it's because the direction of the force applied to him changed and now it's pulling him in all different sides at the same time.

Klarion screams.

Tim's voice sounds wrong to his own ears when he growls:

"I am going to pull you apart into atoms even if it _kills_ me."

Klarion screams and cries and begs, but Tim doesn’t listen.

Did anyone listen to _Tim_ when _he_ cried and screamed and begged?

No, they didn’t.

Nobody listened, and now he’s an _outsider_ to his friends and even if he went to his family he’d be a complete _stranger_ and Bruce has just treated him like _dirt_ and Kon thinks he likes him but what if he actually knew him, what if he remembers and is _repulsed_?

There’s screams, wailing full of pain, and Tim looks up at Klarion. He wonders briefly if his bones are already breaking, limbs being pulled like that.

There’s something hot burning over Tim’s heart.

Tim’s and Klarion’s eyes meet.

The burning feeling on Tim’s skin intensifies.

There’s a flash or red.

 ~~~

That day Klarion was having lots of fun, enchanting toys to attack their owners. He’s decided to practice on a small, not so special town – anyway, it’s not like he thought any of the towns here were very special.

It was going extremely well – people running around and screaming, children weeping, someone getting mauled by the huge, human-sized teddy bear and someone getting run over by a parade of toy cars. It was hilarious and Klarion thought he’d make himself sick laughing at it.

But then the stupid teen-aged titans had to come and spoil the fun! And their leader-for-the-night, the red and black colored Robin, had the gull to scold him, like he was some kind of a child! So, naturally, when he released himself from Beast Boy’s grasp and sneaked away while that idiot still thought he was carrying him to their tower, Klarion was left fuming and feeling humiliated.

It’s good that nearby happened to be a place where a _colleague_ of his resides.

S’aru wasn’t something he’d call a friend, not many could earn the title.

But he was closer to his age, at least in appearance, also knew magic, albeit a different kind of it, and could understand being underappreciated and mistreated by fickle humans.

So Klarion sat there with the small, curvy glass of overly sweet tea and poured out all of his troubles.

He wanted the titans to pay for spoiling his absolutely glorious day.

He could start with today’s leader, couldn’t he?

That was their red-black Robin, wasn’t it?

S’aru agreed to help and together they cast a hastily made-up spell.

It held more on Klarion’s rage and humiliation, but that had to do, right?

It’s not like it was anything massive, just a joke.

He couldn’t have known about how his joke will turn out.

He’s nearly forgotten about it, to be honest.

And then in a dream he saw the sky breaking and the world falling apart, burning, so he _had_ to come here to see the rift in the sky and the Old Ones on the horizon.

He couldn’t have known that his joke will still be in place almost 2 years after and that it’s like this!

He couldn’t have known not to anger the robin, who was now trying to kill him.

He’s screamed and screamed until his throat was raw, but the witch robin didn’t listen.

Even after Klarion had yelled that he didn’t know how to get the spell to stop.

He’s stooped so low he started begging for the torture to end because he couldn’t bear the pain anymore, but the witch robin still didn’t listen and somehow he does disbelieve the witch robin’s claim to pull him apart into atoms because he’s pretty sure that’s what’s happening right now, with the agony in his very bones and his vision getting all blurry and is this what death feels like?

 ~~~

Red flashes again before Tim.

The witch-boy’s eyes are full of tears.

Tim lets him go.

The burning over his heart gets unbearable and he grabs for the collar of his shirt and yanks at the string that’s been around his neck since he left his training at Veda’s.

Tim throws the string to the ground, the dragon scale on it glowing bright red, like a burning coal. Sophia’s ring that he’s been carrying on the same string clatters to the ground, too, falling into the pebbles.

Klarion is weeping desperately, huddled on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. His cat runs nervous circles around him, purring at it's owner and hissing at Tim at the same time.

“I _said_ I don’t know how to stop it!” Klarion cries out through his tears. “It was supposed to be a joke! It was supposed to be your worst nightmare thrown into your face – like snakes or bad economy or whatever humans are afraid of! How could I have known you’re afraid of _this_!”

Just a joke, just a child’s prank that ruined everything Tim had.

He wants to be angry at it, but he can’t.

Tim takes a step back.

With all of the things the dragon scale made him see, one emotion was the strongest in Klarion’s mind.

He’s terrified of Tim.

He’s made a kid – because, essentially, that’s what the witch-boy is, a _boy_ , a _child_ – terrified.

More than that – he nearly killed him.

"You're not actually evil, are you?" Tim hears himself saying. "You're a child of chaos, a trickster, and that's not bad and not good, that just is."

It's something Lif says - how the world isn't just black and white, but all the colors in between. How people now call the time she was born in as the 'simpler times', how they actually weren't as naive as they're painted now. Over the bonfire, Lif likes telling him fairy tales of her old gods. She told him tales of a trickster who amused himself with chaos, stirring it, creating blessings and mischief out of it.

Klarion is fascinated by chaos like a scientist is by a black hole. What he did to Tim was not meant to be evil,  even though it ended up being so.

“I'm sorry, I'm really sorry,” Tim stammers out, as if it can mend what he's just done. 

That’s what Bruce always said about power, that's why he hated magic so much – at the whim of his own anger he'd nearly _killed_ a kid.

Sophia's ring is laying on the ground a few feet away and a bit further Klarion is sobbing quietly.

Tim doesn't make a move to pick up the ring - he  has never felt so undeserving of it.

He feels sick to his stomach.

Tim lowers himself to sit on the ground slowly, making sure all of his moves are seen. Towering over a traumatized kid is a bad idea, especially if you are the one who traumatized him.

"Whatever," Klarion says, wiping his nose. "I have come here with a purpose, and it is urgent. The magic field is in deviation here and that's causing abnormal behavior of the fabric of reality itself, it's about to be torn apart."

"Um. I'm not exactly sure what you meant by that."

Klarion rolls his eyes. They are still red and his cheeks are wet from crying.

"That's the problem with being and uneducated hick wi-" Klarion stops himself abruptly, looking up at Tim, alarmed.

"Well, I do live in a village, so you're not that wrong," Tim tries to smile. He hopes it doesn't look as bad as it feels. "So, maybe, you'd explain in easier terms for me?"

Klarion scrunches his nose, but replies:

"There's something wrong with this reality, so the world might _die_ if it's not fixed. Soon."

"So why would you of all people want to fix it?" Tim asks without thinking and regrets it as soon as he sees Klarion's expression.

The witch-boy scoffs at him and looks away.  

 "Why would I want it fixed, you ask – because I also live on this plane and do not want it destroyed! Even though the people here are garbage and care not for anyone but themselves."

Tim thinks to Sophia bringing him herbal teas and Lif's soft knowing smiles that helped more than some words could. To playing with Marie's kids while staying at her villa in New Orleans. To Wu pushing more and more bizarre medicine into his hands and ensuring him it'll keep him healthy. To Veda letting him brush the mane of the enormous red horse in her stables. To Holly teasing him mercilessly about Conner over text, only to meet him at her house with soda in fancy champagne glasses and gummy bears to celebrate him and Kon making up. 

There's over a dozen letters from both Kiki and Nikos in his house, written with care by hand, one each month, even in the busy weeks that precede the exams. There's Nik's and his lunches that they have every Thursday, the only thing that makes that horrible day brighter and better.

And the women from the village, anxiously telling him how skinny he is and how he should eat more - which is always followed by some kind of food passed to him, neatly packed in boxes. The fisherman taking him to the sea and sharing the secrets of their craft, grinning proudly and patting him on the back when he gets it right. 

"People are not garbage," Tim says to Klarion. "People can be good, people can help one another for no reason at all. There's acts of kindness all around, you just have to look. The villagers here are good people. Don't judge them because of what I've done. I'm really... You didn't deserve it, okay? I had no right to hurt you, no matter what. I'm sorry and I swear it won't happen again. I know there's not much I can do to make it up to you, but if there is?" 

Klarion crosses his arms over his chest and looks distinctly uncomfortable. There's light-pink blush tinting the boy's cheeks. 

"I _guess_ you could help,"  Klarion huffs out, not meeting Tim's eyes. "You could start with showing me around this place - I need to locate the anomaly and destroy it, before it's too late. We do not have much time."

Tim nods and pushes himself up to stand. Klarion takes his time putting his familiar on his shoulders and Teekl rests there like a safety blanket. Then, the witch-boy nods to the ground.

"Are you not going to pick that up?"

Oh, right, Sophia's ring is still laying among the pebbles, together with the dragon scale. Tim picks them both up reluctantly and puts them in his pocket.

Together with Klarion, they start walking towards his house.

"Is the rift in the sky connected to this 'fabric of reality' thing?" Tim asks, partly for the information, partly to dissipate the uncomfortable silence. 

" _Yes_ , the walls between the worlds are crumbling, and the Old Ones are slithering through."

"The old ones? What do you mean by that?"

Klarion scrunches his nose in an irritated manner.

"Have you ever heard of the Elder Gods?"

"The Elder gods?!" Tim says and has to turn back towards the horizon to try and see. "Like lovecraftian mythos Cthulhu and stuff? You're bullshitting me!"

"I assure you, I am not," Klarion says and his expression is grim.

The creatures have moved closer and Tim can see their mangled, unnatural bodies. The League has engaged and is currently fighting them. The rift has become bigger and it's clearly visible in the black sky - even though it must still be morning, the world around them is dark as night.

Tim hopes they can deal with whatever causes this before anyone gets hurt.

"I have some maps in the house," Tim says. "Do you think we could use them to determine where exactly is this anomaly located?"

"We'll see," Klarion sighs and he sounds exhausted.

So Tim doesn't bother the witch-boy on the way back to his cottage, opting for letting Teekl fill the silence with her soft purring. 

***

They reach the cottage in less then 15 minutes. Tim has been walking in the head of their small procession, so he saw them first. 

It's not like they are the first zombies he's seen today, but they are different.

There's more bones than flesh. What's left of it looks ready to fall off. 

That's not what makes Tim freeze to the spot.

The red strings across their wrists is what does that.

Just like the ones Sophia used to tie around his wrist when a challenging day was coming.

Just like the ones she tied around the wrists of her family, the ones she hated herself for only enchanting to bring luck in fishing and not to protect from storms.

Tim can almost see the men from the pictures in Sophia's room, the tallest one being her son-in-law and the shortest one - her husband, with her grandson in the middle.

Tim's legs are refusing to move and he thinks along the lines of something like 'Batman would have been disappointed' before the zombies are at an arm's length from him.

They don't get a chance to get any closer, because Klarion says something loudly and the zombies burst into flames.

The smell of decaying flesh and bones being burnt threatens to make him sick and Tim starts back, covering half of his face with his hand. 

"Thank you," he says to Klarion when he's a safe distance away from the burning heaps of zombies.

"It's not like I need you here, but with your help dealing with this 'anomaly' will be faster," Klarion huffs. Then, he pointedly looks away. "Also, it may be that you're not the only one who might need to apologize and to offer to right the wrongs one's done."

The witch-boy marches towards the front door.

"Klarion, wait! Let me get the door!"

Klarion stops and raises his eyebrow questionably at Tim's request, but Tim just shrugs:

"The house may see you as an unwanted guest, and we don't want that, do we?" 

***

They spend over an hour with the maps and all the divination tools and location spells they could think of.

Klarion uses some complicated spell that involves him leaving his body and traveling in the spiritual plane. He offers to teach Tim how to do that, but he's not sure he likes it or ever wants to try.

While Klarion is scrying for the answers, Tim sends a note to his people at the templegrounds. He tells them that they're working on getting rid of the anomaly and that they will know that it's safe to leave when the sky clears up and the sun is back. Cookie gracefully agrees to carry it, even though she looks not so thrilled to leave her house while there's another cat lounging in her favorite chair. 

Tim makes tea for Klarion and coffee for himself. Twice.

The creatures are still roaring, there's sounds of a fight from afar in the sea.

They have checked the templegrounds first - with Tim's guess that Orpheus's death may have triggered the anomaly opening.

There was nothing except of the flowers that weren't natural and seemed to bloom all-year-round.

They checked the forest, the vastness of it that was most of the southern side of the island.

There was nothing but the usual spirits. 

The village is also a no, so that doesn't leave them with many options.

"Is there a way to know the size of object this anomaly is tied to? Because that's how it's usually is in horror movies, the curse is tied to some creepy doll or a music box with an eerie melody."

"Don't be foolish, if it was simply an object I would've found it long ago, because an object always stays in one place. This thing, however, has been moving all over the island! I just can't figure out, is it a magic current flowing through this place so aimlessly? What could move like this?!"

Klarion stops in his treks, the expression on his face frozen with shock. He checks some of the weird signs he's written on the maps.

Checks again.

Then, he slowly lifts his eyes to Tim.

"I think I know what's causing all of this," he says.

There's a pause and it's way too long, so Tim has to prompt him to speak.

"And what's that?"

"What could be in all of this places. Could move around as pleases. But is still out of place, is _wrong,"_ Klarion voice shakes at the last part. "We've been looking for an object or a flow of magic left after that demi-god's death. It's neither. It's not an 'it' at all."

Something heavy settles down at the pit of Tim's stomach when Klarion lifts his gaze to him. 

“The anomaly-” Klarion says, looking at him almost guiltily. “-Is you.”

 

***

Superboy is fighting alongside Superman and it feels good. Wonder Girl is tearing into the creatures somewhere to his left, Batman and Green Lantern work together in an unlikely tandem which is surprisingly effective. Impulse and Flash whiz past him in a whirlwind of colors. Aquaman is somewhere down, seawater sweeping the creatures away mercilessly. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how terrifyingly powerful Arthur is.

They’re all trying really hard, but that break in the sky gets bigger and more and more things start getting out, each one more shapeless than before. The sky and the world around are getting darker by the minute.

Together with Clark they manage to clear up a part of the sky and just as Kon pauses to catch his breath, an urgent sound draws his attention back to the island. It takes Conner a moment to understand that the frantic sound is Elliot’s heartbeat – and that it’s beating the fastest he’s ever heard. It’s even worse than when Elliot had that fever, so Kon barely explains himself to Clark before bolting towards the sound.

He finds Elliot by his house on the hill.

But he’s not alone.

There’s… someone.

Kon’s not sure who the person is, but he freezes mid-way – because they’re breathtakingly beautiful.

He can’t tell if the person in front of him is a guy or a girl, because their build is slim and fairly androgynous. They have long, flowing golden hair and porcelain-white skin. They’re wearing long flowy robes with intricate patterns embroidered on the fabric. It’s dark around, but the figure’s glowing.

Kon wonders how Elliot can stand to be so close to them, with all of the blinding light. How his face stays so calm, emotionless even – especially when his heart’s beating so fast, like it’s about to tear through his rib cage and fly away.

The figure carefully caress Elliot’s cheek with one delicate, beautiful hand, while the other hand is holding a long wavy knife to Elliot’s stomach. The smile on their angelic face is like that of a parent who’s consoling their frightened child – soft, gentle and understanding.

Wait.

Kon’s feet feel heavy when he takes a step forward – he’s partly sure he uses superspeed, because the world around him blurs, with Elliot and the figure beside him as his only focus.

They must’ve heard Kon move, because they both turn their heads to him.

The creature’s golden, inhuman eyes look empty, despite the smile playing on their full, rosy lips.

Elliot’s eyes widen with horror when they meet Kon’s, and the next moment Elliot gasps as the creature pushes the knife it’s holding into his stomach.

The knife goes _in_ to it’s handle.

A scream tears it’s way out of Kon’s throat, painful and raw. He surges forward, a hot and heavy feeling bubbling behind his eyelids. Before he can control it, his heat vision hits the monster that’s holding the handle of the knife buried in Elliot’s stomach.

The creature hisses, an ugly grimace baring rows of sharp pointy teeth. The creature’s golden eyes glimmer with fury as it makes a sharp, short gesture with it’s free hand.

Kon collapses onto the ground, tearing at his shirt’s collar and gasping for air. He feels dizzy and disoriented and it’s like drowning in liquid Kryptonite, but it doesn’t matter – because all that matters now is that Elliot’s on the ground, too, and the bloody knife has been thrown to the side and there’s a lot of blood and Elliot’s breathing is faltering and ragged.

Kon feels like his bones and blood are filled with lead and pain, and even moving his head is a tremendous effort, but he does it, scraping his chin on the rocks and probably inhaling some dirt – he doesn’t care, because now he can finally see Elliot’s eyes and they are oh so very blue, his gaze fixed on Kon and it’s both terrified and apologetic.

It’s somehow easier to see, even though the monster that was radiating light is no longer here, and they’re so goddamn close, just an arm-length away, but Kon can’t move because of the waves of nausea that’s rendering him useless and all he can think is ‘but you _promised’_.

His eyes stubbornly won’t leave Elliot’s even when his eyesight becomes a blurry mess with spots dancing in it.

The last thing that Kon hears, before the darkness takes him, is Elliot’s stuttering sob.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the thing I wanted to say about the spell - it wasn't an evil scheme to ruin Tim's life, it wasn't a plot by his enemies, it was just a child's joke, something that was done and then promptly forgotten. Just like sometimes bad things happen to good people for no real reason at all - not because the Universe hates you, not because you're bad and deserve it, but just _because_ , you know?  
> Life's just shit sometimes and you can't do anything about it. But you can try to rebuild yourself and go on.
> 
> the 'friend' of Klarion's is [him](https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/S%27aru_\(Prime_Earth\))  
> He's been responsible for Jason's memory loss in n52 RATHO, and even though I hate the story, the character was useful for my plot so thnks l*bdell I guess


	16. the universe kind of feels like it’s folding itself into my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And everybody knows that you're in trouble  
> Everybody knows what you've been through  
> (c) Everybody Knows - Sigrid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the second station of the Pain Train. 
> 
> TW ANGST and it's bad. also swearing, gore (ish?) descriptions, vomiting  
> (tell me any specific tw if you you think I should add it)

Kon wakes up feeling like he was run over by a huge lawn mower. It takes him a full minute to realize that he’s in the Watchtower medical bay and another one – why he could be in here.

Then, he remembers – the eyes that were so very _blue_ .

Kon darts off the medical cot, sprinting through the halls in mere seconds.

He uses superspeed – but it still feels too slow, because this is urgent, this is _important_.

He throws open the door to the main briefing room and propels through it without stopping, even when Clark exclaims from somewhere to the left.

There’s a group of people standing around the table, but Kon’s attention zeroes in on Batman.

That’s exactly who he needed.

Kon steps forward and, before Batman has any chance to duck, grabs the man by the armor and throws him into the wall, catching him by the neck and pushing him back, cutting off any chance to move away with TTK.

There’s yells behind him, but Kon doesn’t have time to be polite.

“Where’s Tim?” he growls into Batman’s face. “Tim Drake, your third Robin, your __son__ _?_ ”

There’s something akin to surprise in the way Batman’s lips twitch, but Kon’s not one of his batkids to waste his time on deciphering his emotions through barely-there clues.

He needs answers.

_Now._

“Tell me it was some fucked up undercover mission, tell me he’s _safe,_ ” he roars.

The thing is – Tim was the first thing he remembered after waking up. Well, not exactly, there was something else _before_ that but he didn’t want to think about it because he wasn’t sure what it could even _mean_ and then his mind jumped straight to Tim and he suddenly was overcome by sheer terror of having no recent memories about him. More than that – when his brain hysterically scrambled to get a hold of the last time he’s seen Tim, it was coming up with something like ‘Thanksgiving’ or ‘that time him, Cassie, Bart and Tim went to the carnival’ but Cassie was wearing a sweater that Bart somehow managed to set on fire and wasn’t it like a year ago? Or maybe even more? Where has Tim been all this time and, more importantly, why has no one noticed him missing?!

Kon is being ripped away from his thoughts when somebody’s hands firmly but gently grab his and guide him towards one of the chairs and there’s a voice telling him softly to breathe and _oh_ how hasn’t he noticed how irregular and hard his breathing had become?

“Bruce?” Clark is saying beside him. There’s clear worry in his voice. “Bruce, are you with me? Can you please say something? Or am I supposed to handle you _both_ having a breakdown at the same time?!”

There’s a long pause during which Kon comes back to his senses enough to understand that his cheek is pressed into the S symbol on Clark’s chest and also there’s hands rubbing calming circles into his back.

“I. I don’t understand,” a voice says and it’s scared and tired at the same time and Kon hardly believes it’s Batman’s voice.

Then, the doors to the briefing room are being thrown open and someone enters – a light sound of running feet first, followed by slow but heavy footsteps.

“Father!” says a young voice, a boy’s voice that’s just starting to break.

Another, deeper voice talks over it gleefully.

“I heard Batman’s havin’ his ass beat by Superboy, so I came to watch and cheer. For Superboy, of course.”

Batman doesn’t acknowledge the comment, asking instead:

“When either of you last saw Red Robin?”

Conner pushes himself away from Clark to see Red Hood and Robin in the room.

Oh, that’s right, Tim wasn’t Robin anymore, even though he’d always stay _Kon’s_ Robin. He was Red Robin and his costume was stupid and Conner should _know_ this, not feel like he’s picking up the memories from a muddy river with his bare hands.

“Who?” Red Hood asks, and his helmet is off so Kon can see the exact moment when the realization hits him. “Wait. Oh. Oh _fuck_.”

The computer that takes half the wall of the room pings, a female voice announces robotically:

“No information found about ‘Red Robin’ for the requested period of time.”

“Repeat the search, add keyword ‘Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne’, start the search 12 month prior to the last input date,” Batman says, his voice gruff.

Conner looks up just in time to see Tim’s photo displayed on the enormous screen. That’s probably the one from his license, because he looks young and his hair is short, like it was when he still was Robin. Longer hair looks better on him, especially when he ties it with the scrunchie that Kon jokingly got him this Halloween – for the, you know, _professional_ holiday because it’s about magic and witches.

Kon abruptly gets up, nearly knocking down Clark. He can practically feel his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach.

Batman and Red Hood are arguing over the search and Conner has to clear his throat twice to finally get the words out:

“I know where he is _._ ”

This stops the argument with an eerily fast effectiveness and both Batman and Hood turn to him - but Kon's only focused on Batman's white lenses.

“The island. How long has it been since we’ve left the island?”

“About ten hours,” Batman says, his lips becoming a thin line once again, as soon as he finishes speaking.

“Do you know where. Where _Elliot_ is?”

It takes Batman a moment to understand what Superboy means – _means_ but can’t _say_ because it sounds insane in his own head.

When Batman understands, he sinks heavily onto a chair closest to him.

“What? But?” he says and quiets, covering his mouth with his palm.

Clark gasps beside Kon.

“Oh Lord, how is it even _possible_?”

Red Hood, clearly unimpressed, crosses his arms over his chest pointedly.

“Okay, cool, but would any of you let the others into the secret?! What the hell’s this ‘bout?”

With Superboy and Batman too stunned for words, Clark sighs and replies:

“The anomaly in Europe that we’ve gathered the meeting for – we had aid from the local witch, he introduced himself as Elliot and now when I look back at it, he looked a lot like Tim.”

“I don’t think he just _looked like_ Tim, he _is_ Tim!” Kon exclaims. “I can’t explain how, but I’m sure!”

Clark’s hands are back on his shoulders and okay, maybe Kon would agree that his voice sounds a tad too close to hysterical.

“How did you even meet him?” Clark asks in that understanding Superman voice that he uses on natural disaster victims.

Kon can’t find it in him to be pissed at the tone, because it is grounding in it’s own way.

“Krypto, it’s ‘case Krypto dragged me there and acted like he knew him because _of course_ he did and...”

“Okay, Conner, that’s okay, let’s go get you a glass of water.”

Without further delay, Clark drags him out of the room and towards the communal kitchen. Nobody points out that there’s a pitcher of water in the middle of the long table in the briefing room.

Clark leads him past groups of heroes that stop talking when they walk by, and only now it occurs to Superboy that he’s made a scene by throwing Batman into a wall and probably a lot of people from the League were present.

Clark says nothing until they’re in the kitchen together, and even then he waits for Kon to finish his glass of water before he asks:

“Conner, how long have you been visiting that island?”

“Since spring. When we had that mission in Rome with Titans.”

“And you haven’t...noticed anything? ”

Superboy just shakes his head in response and hides his eyes, ashamed. Clark puts a hand on his shoulder, again, and it feel like entirely too much for this day. There’s a long, heavy pause before Clark speaks, and it makes Kon lift his gaze just in time to see the uneasiness in Clark’s eyes.

“Kon, is there anything else you want to tell me? Something you wouldn’t share in front of Bruce? ”

“What do you mean? ”

“Um. Maybe it’s something about. You and Tim? Being. You know. _Close_. ”

There’s a pointedly suggestive undertone in Clark’s words and Kon finally gets it.

“No, we weren’t _dating_ , if that’s what you wanted to ask,” Superboy grits through his teeth almost angrily.

“Oh. Sorry! I just thought there was something between you two. When we were at the island, you two were so… _soft_ around each other,” Clark looks truly apologetic and Kon’s anger deflates. “I don’t know how to describe it, sorry. And I’m supposed to be a journalist who's good with words!”

Soft is a good word, though.

It’s something that’s crumbling now inside of Kon, threatening to suffocate him because there’s a feeling in him that tells him that something really bad happened, even if he can't remember _what_ …

No, they would’ve told him if something happened, right?

“We weren’t...anything. But I wanted us to be,” Conner mumbles.

Because that's the only thing that feels real, with Elliot, Tim and even fucking Alvin Draper – Kon's feelings stay unchanged, uncharted, embedded deep in his very core.

Superman hears his quiet words anyway.

“We’ll go there and get him back – just you see, it’s all going to be okay!”

Kon smiles weakly in return to Clark’s blinding smile and wishes desperately it were true.

Their small private interlude finished, both him and Clark decide to head back to the briefing room. The hallways leading to it are unexpectedly deserted. Batman’s voice is booming in the distance. They exchange glances and rush back to the room where they left him with Robin and Red Hood, expecting a fight between Batman and Hood.

Instead, Batman is yelling something about cataloging evidence at Robin and are those tear tracks on the kid’s cheeks?

Hood pushes himself into the space between them, putting Robin behind himself and yelling back at Batman:

“Stop this shit, it’s not the kid’s fault!”

“What is going on?!” Superman asks, clearly exasperated. “I swear to God, we leave for A MINUTE..!”

“I didn't _know_ !” Damian cries, his voice pitched high. “I haven't _remembered_ ! How could have I _known_ ?!”

Robin is clutching a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Kon can see a streak of bright red crayon on it.

“What's that?” he asks, before the shouting match has any chance to continue.

Batman and Robin both turn away from each other stubbornly, so Hood groans loudly and tugs the piece of paper out of Robin's grip.

“I guess Timbo had some fans that were not as forgetful as all of us,” he says, thrusting the paper into Superboy's face.

There's a picture with a stick-figure in red and black costume, clearly drawn by a child's hand. There's also words 'Red Robin' written in a corner.

“It appears that a child from Gotham noticed Red Robin's disappearance and tried to reach out to him via Robin,” Batman explains begrudgingly. “It happened nearly two years ago, a few month after Tim had last updated his logs.”

“Oh, so, two years?” Superman asks, stunned. “And how’s the search on Tim Drake going?”

“ _Less_ than two years. And it’s the same. I’m having Oracle run the supplementary tests and agent A is going to his apartment in the city as we speak . He...found Tim’s room deserted and unused and then remembered, too. ”

“I think Elliot ’s been on the island roughly the same time? ” Conner says, frowning. “I think he’s moved into that house with his aunt and she died a year after? She wasn’t there when I first met him.”

“If that guy you’re talkin’ about is actually Tim, what the fuck are we waitin’ for?” Hood says. “Any of ya’ supers could’ve gone there and dragged him here by now! ”

“I don’t think I can carry anyone from that far right now. After the fight with those creatures, my powers are still not completely restored. The same goes for Superboy,” Superman says, frowning, way before Kon has a chance to say anything. “No, you are not flying anywhere right now, after being unconscious for over 10 hours and while we still don’t know what happened to you. That’s non-negotiable!”

“I’m getting the jet ready, ” Batman interferes. “ Superboy can share all the information he has on board on the way to Naxos.”

“Okie-dokie, so what are we waitin’ for? Let’s go! And don’t you- ” Red Hood points to Batman . “- dare say anythin’. The boy of steel here is not the only one whose first thought was that it’s some part of your fucked up plan.”

To that, Batman splutters:

“It has nothing to do!.. ”

“Uh-huh, do you think that after all that agent-37 bullshit anyone would believe you? I want to see Tim with my own two eyes an’ I want to hear it from him. So I’m goin’.”

“I am not _forbidding_ you from going, ” Batman sighs. “Just. Let’s not waste any more time.”

As soon as he says this, Batman turns to the door and walks out. Clark mutters something irritably under his breath, but ends up following him anyway. Hood goes after him and Robin follows suit, silent and eerily subdued – so much that Kon had forgotten he was in the room up until now. Kon follows them in the end of the line going through the halls and towards the part of the Watchtower where the bat-jets are parked. Clark and Batman are talking about something, but Conner doesn’t listen. All he can think of is Tim and Elliot and what all the whirlwinds of color in his head mean.

He crashes into Red Hood and only the guy’s bulkiness saves them both from tumbling forward.

“The hell, kid? ” Hood says through clenched teeth, turning around. They’re almost the same height now, with Jason being only a few inches taller.

Oh, they’ve reached the jet, and Batman had lead Robin to the side and is talking to him, his body language apologetic. Clark is nowhere to be seen, so Kon listens to his heartbeat and finds it inside the jet. Hood is still in front of him, and yes, this guy is Tim’s older brother who he used to see frequently somewhere on the background in the Manor when he came to visit and they haven’t been best buds or anything but he used to be more Jason than Red Hood in Kon’s mind and it’s shocking how even such a small detail changed with Tim not being there.

“You’re okay?” Jason asks, his face changing strangely, and maybe that’s sympathy paired up with worry and Kon’s not sure he wants or deserves any.

“Are _you_?” he challenges more rudely than Hood deserves and crosses his arms over his chest.

Jason does not raise to the bait and smiles bitterly.

“Not sure. But we’ve got the World’s Greatest Detective and the Super Boy Scout on board of the fastest jet in the world, so I think we gotta chance to set things straight. Heh, as much as we can.”

“We’re leaving in 5 minutes!” Batman tells them from afar, so they have to stop the conversation and move towards the jet.

Together with them, Robin enters.

“You comin’ too, pipsqueak?” Hood asks, patting Damian on the head and taking his hand away fast.

“Richard would have gone if he were not undercover at the moment. He will require information about this, ” Robin says gruffly.

From the way Red Hood smiles, Kon knows he’s not the only one who doesn’t buy it.

“We’ll find him and this picture will be something to laugh at, okay? ” Hood says, squeezing Robin’s shoulder.

Instead of an outburst that Conner would have expected from Damian, only a small nod follows.

Which means that this situation is really, really bad.

The jet starts immediately, announcing the coordinates and the amount of time it will take to get back to Earth and to Greece. It doesn’t take long to enter the atmosphere, and usually after the jump is made and the jet slows down to a much more comfortable speed, the passengers relax – but today the tense atmosphere does not go anywhere. There’s conversations popping up on the screen now and then, and Batman types furiously, answering them in text instead of picking up the calls. No one seems eager to talk, even Clark, who’d usually try to struck up a conversation or two to lighten the mood. Conner also doesn’t feel up to it, and the truth of Clark’s words about him not being up for flying settles in – he feels so tired he doesn’t even want to move from the chair he’s sitting in.

Half an hour passes in a silence no one wants to break, and the notifications on the screen clear up a bit. Batman is the first one to start talking.

“Superboy, I need as many details about this Elliot as you can remember. Legal name, citizenship, anything to pinpoint who he is. ”

That’s something Kon has been thinking about as well and, to tell the truth, he doesn’t know all that much about Elliot – not even his last name.

“I only know his first name. And that he’s not Greek, he’s from New Jersey? He said he grew up in a big city, ” the memories feel muddy, but Kon powers through them.

“Gotham is in the state of New Jersey,” Robin supplies.

That makes an uneasy silence settle over them, before Batman asks impatiently:

“Anything about his family? Any names?”

“The house was left to him by his aunt Sophia. He has a lot of aunts and I think they all are witches, too. At least they celebrate some witchy holidays together, like it’s Yule for them, not Christmas.”

“He’s got a lot of _what_ now?” Red Hood splutters indignantly. “If that’s really Timbo we’re havin’ some words with him, you leave him for a little while and he gets himself a new replacement family!”

“He’s also talked about his brothers and grandfather and sometimes his dad and a sister? But he’s never mentioned any names and I think he said they don’t talk. He’s said a few times he had a moment when he ‘had nowhere to go’ and I kinda got an impression he got disowned?”

“Fuck,” Hood says under his nose and Clark doesn’t reprimand him.

Meanwhile, a message pings on the screen and a picture full of Greek text appears.

“Sophia Rhodocanakis,” Batman reads. “Greek citizenship, deceased, no living relatives left. She never had any nephews.”

“Any luck with the surveillance cameras?” Hood asks, moving Batman away from the screen to look at the document himself.

“No cameras on the island at all, it’s too small. Also, no signs of Tim on the streets of Gotham in the last 21 months.”

“Is there a chance he’s left the place and been anywhere more civilized?” Jason asks, turning to Conner.

“He’s been with me in San Fran, after that interdimensional attack this fall? He’s lived with one of his aunts, in the rich part near the Bay. We’ve mostly been around there somewhere. Oh, and his other aunt lives in London, he’s been with her either on his birthday or after it? She sounded very British.”

“Like, he literally told you she’s his aunt?”

“He called her ‘auntie’. She’s the only aunt I met in person and her name’s something starting with G, gimme a minute. Mmm, G, g, g, g. Something with an N? Gina? No, Ginny!”

“Not much, but send this to Oracle anyway,” Red Hood says, bumping Batman’s shoulder with his.

Even through the cowl, Kon can feel Batman glaring. Despite it, the message still gets sent to Oracle.

“Anything else about him that can help?”

Kon shrugs while trying desperately to search his memory for something useful.

“He doesn't have a spleen,” Batman says suddenly. “At the house, you said he doesn't have a spleen.”

Kon meets Batman's gaze, almost physically feeling the waves of terror rolling off the man. Because, if that's really Tim, Batman had personally endangered his own son's life by nearly dragging him, a person with already compromised immune system, out into the rain.

“He has a long scar here,” Superboy say, putting his hand on the left part of his abdomen. “And he also has a lot of scars all over his body, I’ve always wondered where they were from but I’ve never asked. And when we went to the village to evacuate the civilians, he had a bo-staff on him and he can actually use it? We fought those zombies together and--”

A flash of blinding pain shoots through Kon’s head, making him cover his face with both hands and double over. The pain passes as unexpectedly as it started and when Conner opens his eyes he sees Clark’s worried face just a few inches away from his own.

“We should’ve left you in the medbay for longer,” he sighs, taking Kon’s face into his hands and looking into his eyes as if searching for something.

Superboy shakes his head, reluctantly turning away from Clark’s hands.

“No, it’s. How. Where did you find me? On the island?”

“After the monsters disappeared and the sky cleared out, we went back to the island and the villagers had you in a makeshift first-aid-room in the school building. But they were...well, not very friendly, so we’ve left as soon as we got you.”

Kon must have stayed silent for too long, so Red Hood loses his patience.

“What do you remember?”

“I’m not… I’m not sure how true this is, my memory’s weird.”

“Everybody’s memory’s weird right now, c'mon, kid, get to the point already!”

Kon swallows around the lump in his throat that’s not letting him breath properly.

“We were at his house and there was a creature, it wasn’t human but looked like one and it had a knife. There… There was blood. A lot of blood oh my _god_...”

“Shit,” he hears Clark swear and he’d be freaking out about it if he weren’t reliving every gasp and sob he’s heard from – was it Tim? Elliot?

Does it matter at all when all he can see is blue eyes full of pain and panic?

The jet’s operating system announces the increase in speed that it does not advice, but Batman overrides the warning notice and his voice sounds weird, emotionless and flat.

They travel in relative silence for a long time, before Hood finally breaks it:

“Ok, what really bugs me is – why now? What happened that we started rememberin' him  _now_?”

“We need magical help and we need it _yesterday_ ,” Superman frowns.

“I’m writing to both Zatanna and Constantine,” Batman nods. “They will receive the coordinates as well as the message to come immediately.”

“You sure Constantine hasn’t blacklisted you?” Superman huffs. “You said he’s not talking to you.”

“Yes, he-” Batman starts, only to stop abruptly. As if the sudden pause wasn’t alarming enough, he then grabs the chair nearest to the screen where he’s been standing, using it for support. “He came to me, claiming that I’ve been interfering with magical affairs? That I had my Robin with some magician?”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ - did _Constantine_ remember Timmers while _we_ didn’t?”

Their conversation is interrupted by the mechanical voice from the computers that announces their arrival to the island.

“Well, there’s one way to find out what happened, isn’t there?” Clark says, while the jet lands.

This time Batman lands directly behind the house on the cliff. This may disturb the flowerbeds that’ve been covered for winter, but Kon’s ready to receive Elliot’s wrath if that means seeing him, safe and sound.

No one comes out of the house to meet them.

Kon can’t see any blood on the ground, but it’s probably because of the evergreen branches that cover the lawn in front of the house. It smells heavily of pine.

Batman’s already halfway to opening the door, so Kon rushes after him, and without the superspeed the time drags on like molasses.

They enter the house and even when Conner calls for Elliot, no one comes out. They scatter around the room, looking for clues. Kon goes towards the wall that’s covered with photographs – of scenery, Elliot’s friends, a picture of an old woman who Superboy knows as Elliot’s aunt Sophia. Finding a picture with Elliot in it is not easy, but when Kon finally manages to, he gasps.

Batman’s the first to reach him and grab the picture – then it gets handed over to the others.

It’s a photo of four people, a tall guy with curly hair and nicely tanned skin, a grumpy girl with two long braids and a blonde girl, the one Kon was so stupidly jealous about all those month ago. The forth person looks very thin in an oversized sweater he’s wearing and his hair is long and he’s holding it out of his face while grinning at something and Kon’s been calling him Elliot since Krypto dragged him to this house on the cliff but also he’s Tim and how is it possible?

“’Kay, so Timmers has friends and acts his age for once – this why we freakin’ out?” Red Hood says, scoffing at the photograph.

“That’s the owner of this house we’ve been referring to as Elliot,” Clark explains.

“He had guests,” Batman calls from the kitchen. “There’s two cups and a lot of magical artifacts on the table.”

Then, Batman’s gauntlet computer pings. His fingers hover over the console, but he does nothing.

“Are those fingerprints results?” Red Hood asks in a voice that means he’s waiting to hear them.

Batman hesitates for a moment longer, but then presses the button.

“Yes,” he say and pauses for a long moment, as if speaking is hard for him. “Yes, they’re. They’re _Tim’s_.”

Red Hood swears again, while Clark just sighs tiredly.

Robin appears from somewhere under the table.

“Does Drake have a pet?” he asks, looking at Superboy.

“Yeah,” Kon confirms, trying desperately to cling to the question and not to the panic raising in him. “A cat, her name’s Cookie.”

“That’s a stupid name,” Robin quips.

“Oh wow, and Bat-Cow is the pinnacle of intelligent pet-namin’,” Hood snorts. “Oh my fuck, don’t tell me he’s got a cow or a goat somewhere here. It’d be so _on point_ with all of this country livin’ - ain’t it _cute_?”

Red Hood laughs and Kon doesn’t want to answer it. Thankfully, Robin takes his place in the conversation.

“Why are you suddenly being so cheerful?” he asks Red Hood, sounding disgusted.

“You probs don't know this, kid,” Red Hood says, leaning heavily on Robin’s shoulder. “You probs haven’t been born yet – but once upon a time, B got me ‘cause he needed a replacement for Dickie, so I'm doin' my best to serve my purpose. ’m sure I’m doin’ much better than him!”

Kon tunes out Damian's promises to severely maul Hood. At least it's not a promise to kill. ‘He's getting better,’ he remembers Tim saying, small smile on his lips.

He also remembers Elliot talking about how he understands that there’s certain difficultly with younger brothers, but it wasn’t Elliot, it was Tim all along – and putting the two together is about to break Kon’s mind.

“Do you think he remembered?” Batman asks, suddenly to his right.

His voice is gentle but very, very sad.

Kon can’t look at him, but can’t lie as well.

He settles for looking out of the window while saying:

“I don’t know, but. He knew things about me, like that I like hot chocolate with marshmallows and he got so _pissy_ whenever I called him a _civilian_ and that would make so much sense...”

Kon badly needs to re-evaluate every interaction with Elliot, but all that his brain is coming up with right now is the blood and the desperate blue of his eyes.

“Where’s his room?” Hood asks, looking at Kon.

“One of the rooms upstairs? I don’t really know, I think I’ve only been there once?”

Batman and Clark are already moving upstairs, when Red Hood laughs at Kon, mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

“Oh, seriously? Where’d you do it, then? Don’t tell me on this poor couch, this thing looks wa-a-ay too old to support _that_ kind of action.”

It takes a moment to understand what Hood is talking about and when Kon does, he splutters indignantly.

“We weren’t together!” he hisses in a loud and angry whisper. “We weren’t...anything.”

The last thing he says is much more quiet because he suddenly remembers that he’d kissed Tim and that Tim hadn’t kissed back.

Tim’s his best friend.

He’d kissed his best friend and Tim turned him down.

“Shit, kid, I’m sorry, that was a shitty joke ‘n in a bad taste. Hey, you with me?”

Red Hood snaps his fingers in front of Kon’s face and it brings him to the present.

“He said I don’t know him, that I don’t know who he is – is _this_ what he meant?”

Jason doesn’t have any chance to ask him anything, because Clark gets back from the second floor and there’s booming footsteps of Batman following him.

“All the rooms are empty,” Clark says, as if it’s not something both of them could’ve known by simply listening. “The one we think is his seems like it hasn’t been slept in this night.”

“I can’t find the cat anywhere,” Robin adds, appearing seemingly out of thin air.

“We need to go to the village, maybe he’s there,” Clark proposes.

Kon doesn’t want to tell him that he can’t hear Elliot’s – no, Tim’s heartbeat anywhere near here. But it must be because his powers are still not restored, right?

“Robin,” Batman says, his voice rough despite him obviously trying to be gentle. “How about you stay here? You could look for that cat.”

“But _you're_ going!” Damian says in disbelief.

“C’mon, little bat, the old man is right for once,” Red Hood says in a soothing voice. “If we all go, no one will be here if Tim comes back.”

There’s a moment when Damian looks close to stomping his feet in frustration, but then the kid settles for crossing his arms in front of his chest, stubbornly looking at the floorboards beneath his feet.

“All right, I'll stay, but when you come back with Drake I'll tell him what a horrible pet owner he is!”

With that, both Superman and Batman leave the house, while Red Hood ruffles Robin’s hair – unexpectedly, not even getting any threats in return.

They follow the road down the hill in complete silence – even Jason doesn’t try to joke anymore, his mouth set in a straight line and eyebrows furrowed.

The path is covered with evergreen branches all the way down to the village and needles get crushed under their heavy combat boots.

When they enter the village – it’s still. There’s no laughing children playing outside, no adults busying themselves with everyday activities. There’s only one woman outside of the house down the street and she disdainfully says something at them, walking away as soon as she spits the words out.

“What’d she say?” Clark asks lowly.

“That something is our fault,” Batman translates. “She didn’t specify _what_.”

Going further, they find a few old men sitting at a round table near something that looks like a cafe – the men pretend not to hear their questions, even the fact that Batman speaks Greek does not help.

“We not like tourists here,” one of the man finally says, purposely in English. There’s a disgusted quirk to his mouth. “Go!”

“He’s my son!” Batman says suddenly, desperately, and if Kon didn't know him he’d say his tone is _pleading_.

The man is not impressed by this, so Batman adds:

“I just need to know that he’s safe, _please_!”

The way Red Hood is looking at him might mean Kon's not the only one who’s surprised.

The men at the table lean closer to each other, speaking in hushed whispers. After a long conversation, the man that spoke to them before says:

“He in house where we put all them,” the man says gruffly. “Road.”

The old man points to the road that is covered with the branches. It looks like the main one in the village and leads somewhere up the hill that’s visible in the distance.

The men do not explain anything else, going back to pretending there’s no superheroes in front of them.

There’s no other way but to follow the evergreen trail.

The track is long and feels even longer for Kon who can’t use his powers.

They move in a grim silence, marching in step.

The trail takes them upwards, to the hill that’s getting swallowed by a forest more and more, with every step they take.

There’s a lonely hut on the hill among the trees – and the trail leads them there.

The hut is dark, even though its doors are open.

The others move forward, but Kon stays behind, rooted to the spot.

The place smells strongly of flowers, as if there’s a whole flowershop inside of the little building in front of them.

But Kon’s highlighted superhuman senses pick up something else.

There’s a smell of stale blood and raw meat, of barely-there rot that an ordinary human wouldn’t be able to feel, even without the sickeningly sweet smell of flowers getting in the way.

The others are already inside of the hut and someone gasps and then there’s a long, pained howl full of grief that’s either Batman or Hood, Kon’s not sure.

Either way, it can only mean one thing.

Kon turns to the side, doubles over and throws up.

When there’s nothing left in his stomach anymore, a hand with a tissue appears in front of his face.

He takes it and wipes his mouth.

“You don’t have to go in there,” Clark says, his eyes dark with sorrow.

“No, I _have_ to,” Kon says, shaking his head.

He’s shaking all over, but Clark offers a steadying shoulder to lean on.

There’s really a lot of flowers in the hut’s only room – so much that it’s hard to see what’s been placed on the elevated platform in the middle of it.

The body’s been dressed in white clothes and there’s a small bouquet of red flowers put into the pale, almost yellowish hands. Kon thinks it’s the ones that grow on the hill near the old temple.

(It’s much easier to think about the flowers than about the rigid hands holding them.)

Red Hood is standing a few feet away from the platform, covering his mouth with his hand. There’s tears on his cheeks.

Batman is leaning over the body, eerily silent, his hands shaking where they carefully caress the pale cheek. His cowl is laying discarded on the floor.

Kon have never thought that he’d ever see Batman cry – but here they are.

He thinks how both Batman and Hood must have suspected something, were expecting the worst, so they made sure Damian stayed in the house. Some fucked up bat-logic about how Robin shouldn’t see the dead body of one of his brothers while being allowed to see all the things Gotham has to offer.

Kon wishes he could look away, too, but he can’t seem to bring himself to turn around.

He wants to think something along the line of Tim looking peaceful, of looking like he’s asleep and is about to wake up, but he can’t.

All he sees is a rigid, frozen expression on his face and pale skin with yellowish undertone and some blue spots starting to form.

Kon has to hold on to the doorframe when another wave of nausea surges over him.

It’s Tim.

It’s Tim and they’re too late.

Clark comes up behind him and turns him away, holding him close to his chest, and Conner’s too tall to find the position comfortable but he clings to him all the same. His face buried in Superman’s shoulder, he misses when a figure appears behind him. He turns around when Clark asks in an alarmed, angry voice:

“Who are you?”

A girl, short and thin, with white skin and black hair, stands between Jason and the platform on which the body’s laying. She looks very goth and there’s a silver ankh on a string around her neck. She looks up at them with eyes contoured by a thick eyeliner.

“I think I have to explain,” she says, her voice young and sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't think about everyone else remembering Tim while going on with their day peacefully.  
> don't think about Alfred automatically moving to the next room to clean, only to see it full of dust and oh, it's Tim's  
> don't think about Cass and Steph jokingly saying 'oh it's just like when Tim...' and suddenly there's a long, heavy silence followed by a horrifying realization  
> Don't think about Duke thinking that he can't wait to tell Tim about this new game that's been announced and opening his phone to see that the last text from Tim was received almost two years ago  
> Don't think about Dick remembering mid-mission and not even being able to call and ask what this all means
> 
> [ chapter title](https://unluckyloki.tumblr.com/post/184454420723/inkskinned-um-but-the-sky-and-i-are-best-friends) \- I've also gone back and added links to ALL of the other chapters, so you can now find all of the poems\texts I've referenced and read them
> 
> & here’s some songs I’ve been listening to while writing this whole story.
> 
> sad list:  
> Daughter - Smother  
> Daughter - Youth  
> Daughter - All I Wanted  
> Billie Eilish - lovely (with Khalid)  
> Billie Eilish - Ocean Eyes  
> Sufjan Stevens - Visions of Gideon  
> Sufjan Stevens - Fourth Of July (all of the saddest parts are sponsored by)  
> Ruelle, Fleurie - Carry you  
> Flora Cash - You're Somebody Else  
> dodie - Sick of Losing Soulmates  
> \+ The kiss (ch 14) was written to Ruelle - Live like legends
> 
> soft list:  
> The Empty House Band - Sweeter The Sound  
> Family of Things - Come and Gone  
> Lily James - Andante, Andante (from Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again)  
> Sigrid - Strangers  
> Troye Sivan – Bite  
> Troye Sivan – Touch  
> Troye Sivan – Fools  
> Troye Sivan – Heaven  
> 


	17. hope smelled like distant land drenched in agony that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the last part of the pain train!  
> TW for: heavy angst, illness of a pet (but all's ok in the end, just in case someone might find it distressing), vomiting, blood  
> also, Red Hood says wtf a lot
> 
> want more tears?  
> there's music for that!
> 
> You Were A Kindness - The National  
> In The Woods Somewhere - Hozier  
> Hurts like hell - Fleurie  
> Hymn for the Missing - Red  
> ~I've changed my username so now it matches my tmblr one, so don't freak out 😅

“Explain what-”

Batman says through gritted teeth, while Red Hood gasps and says:

“I know you!”

The girl walks up to him, taking his face into her hands. She’s much smaller than Hood and has to get on her tippy-toes to reach him.

“Oh, my boy,” she says, stroking Jason’s cheek. “You were so brave.”

He jerks away from her, his eyes full of terror.

“Who’s this?” Batman asks, his voice sounding as alarmed as Batman’s can get. “Jason, who’s this?”

Jason stares at the girl with almost religious fear and says in a deadpan voice:

“Death.”

Conner doesn’t notice how exactly Batman gets there, but in a blink of an eye, he appears between the girl and Red Hood, pushing the guy behind himself.

There’s a batarang in his hand, too, as if he thinks it can stop Death – or maybe he doesn’t _think_ so, but is still ready to try.

“Are you here because of Tim?” Hood asks, peeking at the girl from behind Batman’s back. “That’s what you wanted to explain?”

“Oh,” Death says casually. “You remember Tim now. Last time I spoke to him, you didn’t. The curse must've lost it’s power with his body dying.”

She quiets after that, moving closer to the platform and the body on it. Her hands are in fingerless gloves and her fingernails are painted black and she smooths some wrinkles on the white shirt and smiles at the dead body softly.

“What. Curse.” Batman says through his teeth.

Death turns to him with a bit of bewilderment in her gaze, as if she forgot anyone else was in the room except her.

“Well, there was this spell-” she explains while pushing herself up to sit on the edge of the platform where the corpse is lying. “-that made all of you forget Timothy and whatever other names he went by. And, you see, when people collectively think something does not exist – the fabric of reality tends to adjust to that and also believes that _something_ to have never existed at all. That’s why none of you answered when he called, on that first day in Gotham.”

“He. He _called_?” Hood asks, his voice wrecked.

“Uh-huh,” she nods, while carefully extracting a red flower from the pale, rigid fingers’ grip. “And also he went to see someone? It didn’t work – _obviously_.”

“Who did he go to see,” Batman half-asks in the resigned emotionless tone. His hands are shaking.

First, Kon thinks ‘what if it was _me_ ’ – but dismisses the selfish thought as soon as it crosses his mind, because in Gotham there’s plenty of people Tim would’ve gone to, starting with Dick and Bruce.

He suddenly remembers Elliot, feverish and half-delirious, telling him that his brother won’t even talk to him.

Which brother was it that Tim tried to ask for help, just to be dismissed, unnoticed?

“I have no idea. I went to meet him in his apartment, thought maybe the familiar surroundings would feel a bit more comfy? Well, the state of the place was not comfy at all,” she huffs a laugh at that.

“Why didn’t he even keep his _name_ then?” Hood bristles. “And why there are at least two people we’re aware of who _remembered_ him?”

Death looks at him, cocking her head to the side.

“How could he have called himself ‘Tim’ when Tim had never existed?” there’s a pitying smile on her lips. “And those weren’t very _close_ people, were they? They must’ve not actually known him. Not enough at least to have regrets.”

“Regrets?” Jason asks, his voice small. “What regrets.”

“You know some things about magic, don’t you?” Death smiles, the white pearly teeth a contrast to her black lipstick. “Just a little bit, but that’s enough to know that any spell has to be based on something. So, what is better than regrets, when people have so much of them?”

“I have _never_ regretted him,” Batman declares.

Death scrunches her nose.

“Have you, though? Have you never thought you wished some things had never happened? Not when your other son was in a grave? Not when _he_ ,” she points to Tim’s body. “- was laying on a medical cot in your cave, bleeding? Whatever it was all of you wished was different is a _regret_ and was used in the spellmaking. Which you shouldn’t be blamed for, of course – you are mere mortals.”

She shakes her head and continues:

“You see, the curse was just a petty revenge done hastily. But it was _powerful_ in it’s naivety and anger. So, the world ended up with a person who didn’t _exist_ walking the streets, a body occupying a place that wasn’t there for it. He was dead but also wasn’t – and that’s where I come into the picture. I didn’t know what to do with him, you know, these kinds of things do not happen. Unlike most of you think, I am not a murderer, I only collect souls when it’s their time. And it wasn’t his. So I put him under my brother’s care, to be a priest in my nephew’s temple. I hoped it would wade off the cracks in reality, but all it did just slow it down a bit.”

“Why are you here now?” Clark asks, the voice of reason as always.

The girl looks up at him meaningfully.

“As I said – he’s not supposed to be dead, but he is. I would know things like that.”

It barely takes a bit before something almost visibly clicks for Batman, his stormy eyes filling with determination.

“Give him back. If you say he wasn’t supposed to be dead, give him back!” Batman says in an authoritative voice that makes him sound like Damian when he demands something he believes he is owned.

“I can’t,” Death says. She sounds sad. “I can’t, even if I wanted to. I don’t have his soul.”

“Who has it, then?” Kon hears himself speak, and it’s unexpected for both him and Clark, who starts at his voice. “If you, Death, do not have access to it, _who_ does?”

The girl looks at Kon then, making eye contact for the first time since she’s appeared in the room. There’s a line of charcoal-black eyeliner curling into a twirl under one of her eyes. Her eyes, just like her clothes, are very, very black.

“His soul is with someone else,” Death says, looking at Kon approvingly, like at a kid who started to get how puzzles work.

He doesn’t want any puzzles now – he needs an answer.

“Where? And how do I get him back?”

“Would you go down to Hell if I told you his soul was there?” she asks, cocking her head to a side, like a bird.

He’s not sure if the girl looks more like a raven or a vulture.

There’s a dozen things Kon should ask. There’s even more ways he could answer.

“Yes,” he says simply.

Death smiles. It’s an understanding, soft smile.

“My nephew would’ve liked you,” she says.

Her eyes are dark pools of sorrow.

Raven, then.

“Hell does not have his soul. It’s been bargained for. Find his familiar and find out,” Death says.

And.

Vanishes.

A red flower falls to the floor.

“What the fuck,” Red Hood says.

Nobody acknowledges his comment.

Batman pick up his cowl from the floor.

“In folklore, a witch’s familiar is usually an animal,” Clark says carefully.

Kon suddenly feels so goddamn grateful for Clark being here, for holding it all together when none of them can.

He’ll bake him a pie.

He doesn’t know how to, but he’ll ask Ma for help.

Shit, he’s just so _glad_ Clark’s here!

“Conner,” Clark says, softly squeezing his shoulder.

There’s this understanding smile on his face and for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t irritate Kon, doesn’t feel fake. He appreciates it for what it is – a silent support.

“I’m okay,” he says and sees that Clark doesn’t believe him.

Maybe he doesn’t feel okay now, but there’s hope that he will be – a hope that wasn’t there before.

“Okay, let’s go get that cat of his, betcha Dami already found it,” Red Hood says in an obviously fake cheerful tone and exits the hut, doing so in a hurry, his back turned to the body in the middle of the room.

Kon follows hot on his heels, but still can’t help but turn around to see Batman hunched over the body, a dark figure among all of the flowers. Superman stays too, at a respectable distance.

It’s so unbelievable that the sky is still blue and there’s some birds in the trees when behind him in that hut Tim…

No, Death said he was supposed to be alive instead. They’ll get him back.

Red Hood’s cell phone rings loudly in the stillness of the landscape.

He swears and pulls it out of one of the many hidden pockets his jacket has.

“Harper, I swear to motherfuckin’ god…” he curses into the phone. “Maybe I wasn’t pickin’ up those 50 times for a fuckin’ reason?!”

There’s a pause after and Kon purposely does not listen to what the other person says on the other side. Jason’s shoulders lose some of the tension, but he lowers his head instead, almost in defeat.

“Okay, lemme ask,” he says after a minute or so – it’s hard to tell with Kon spacing out. He has to stop doing that when Hood turns to him. “Arsenal’s with the Titans now. They’ve remembered Tim and tried to reach you, but you’re not pickin’ up. Wanna say hi?”

It’s good that Jason had left his helmet somewhere. This way Kon actually can see his eyes and the understanding in them when he frantically shakes his head.

“I’mma tell them you’ll explain later, okay?” Hood says instead.

When Kon nods, the man goes back to the call, retreating a bit away from Superboy to make it more private.

Batman and Superman exit the hut in a few minutes.

Batman does not turn around when he walks away, but also does not lock the door behind himself.

On their way back to the house on the cliff, they purposely avoid walking through the village.

Robin meets them at the front door, coming to a halt as soon as he looks over all of them.

“Where’s Drake?” he asks.

There’s an awkward pause after that – nobody dares to answer.

“Have you found the cat?” Batman asks in turn, instead of answering the question.

“No, I have not. But where’s _Drake_?” Robin demands.

Batman moves past him and into the house, while Red Hood leans down to Damian’s level.

“Dami, there’s something we gotta do first to see him, ‘kay? And for that we gotta find the cat.”

“In what places does it usually hide?” Batman’s voice booms from the living room.

Conner’s mind takes a moment to register the question and come to the conclusion that it must be directed at him.

“I have no idea. She’d usually go play with Krypto if I had him with me?”

“Maybe we could bribe her with treats?” Red Hood adds, opening the fridge.

“I have not found any treats in the kitchen,” Damian chimes in.

He’s clearly offended at the others for not giving him all of the information, so he’s turned his face away from them, rather speaking to the wall then anyone present.

“I don’t think there were any. She just kinda eats everything, like any normal country cat would. Oh, I once brought her fresh cream and she later puked all over the carpet and Elliot was so mad he banned me from bringing her any stuff ever again,” Conner can’t help but laugh a little at the mental image of the guy’s pissed off expression on his pretty face.

Just a moment later, Kon’s heart drops.

“Tim,” he says, trying to persuade himself more than the others. “I meant to say ‘Tim’!”

The others do not meet his eyes.

“Why are we sure the cat is the familiar,” Batman suddenly says. “It sounds like an ordinary pet.”

“I don’t think there were any other animals around here. Well, he kinda also fed the birds, but it was never… Like this. He talked to Cookie all the time.”

“Pfff, oh please, Tim would talk to _anythin_ ’,” Red Hood laughs. “He talks to his computer when he thinks no one’s around.”

“No, I mean, she listened. Like, she’d sit and wait if he asked her to. And once I saw her bring him a small bag with salt when he asked her for it. I just thought she’s trained or somethin’, but if she’s magical that’d make more sense.”

“Okay, so the cat is it,” Red Hood says after a heavy pause. “Any ideas on how to actually get her to be where we need her?”

Kon shrugs.

“She’d disappear sometimes,” he says. “And she’d appear then unexpectedly. You know, when I think about it, I could never tell when Cookie was around and she tended to just be _there_ behind me an’ _he_ always said she just likes messin’ with me.”

“If she could do that now it’d be really appreciated,” Red Hood mumbles.

They lapse into a heavy silence after that.

Kon waits for Cookie to appear.

Any moment now.

She doesn’t.

“I haven’t found the cat, but I’ve found something else,” Robin says, breaking the ringing silence.

“Whatcha find, baby bat?” Red Hood asks absentmindedly, going through the kitchen cabinets.

Robin approaches him, stopping an arm’s length away.

“This,” the kid says, pulling a book out of one of the bat-pockets.

The book is tattered, it’s cover a faded grayish-green. Hood furrows his eyebrows in question, but takes it anyway. When he opens it, his expression turns into a shocked one.

Batman strides towards him to look into the book, too, and turns away almost as quickly.

When Conner finally gets a chance to look at it, he sees a childish but neat handwriting there, on the first page, that reads ‘property of Jason Todd’ in big letters.

“I’ve given that lil’ bitch this book _ages_ ago, he better have read it!” Jason say. His eyes are suspiciously watery.

“I’ve also found,” Robin adds. “Other things. In his room.”

“You been going through his things while we were gone?” Kon asks, incredulous.

“I have been conducting a research, it’s detective work someone like you wouldn't understand!”

“Aww, someone’s a meanie today,” Jason say, putting his arm around Robin’s shoulders and leading him towards the stairs to the second floor.

“I _resent_ you,” Damian responds in a venomous tone.

He does not shake Hood’s arms off himself.

“Of course you do,” Jason says, smiling.

In the end, all of them end up in the room upstairs, where Tim used to live for all these past months.

It’s smaller than the one in the Manor, which is not saying much – the rooms there are _huge_.

But it feels cozy, filled with trinkets and photos and dried flowers. The birthday poster that his friends had made for him, the ‘dancing queen’ one has been moved to the wall here. The closet door is thrown open, the things from it spilling onto the floor.

There’s a white cloth covering the mirror on the wall directly in front of the bed, though.

“Wait,” Red Hood says from somewhere near the bed. “This fuckin’ monstrosity is Dick's. Isn’t it, baby bat?”

He’s holding a t-shirt in his hands. There’s a bright print saying ‘you da bomb!’ and a neon-pink bomb on it. The t-shirt is bright-green.

“You are – _regretfully_ – correct,” Damian confirms.

He’s obviously trying not to look at the t-shirt – most likely because of the bright colors that threaten your eyesight by their mere existence in close proximity to you.

“I also recall a whole day when Thomas, Brown and Drake bet who would beat whom in this game,” Damian adds, picking up what looks like an old Tetris. “And stayed up in the living room all night long.”

“I bought that for him,” Batman says in a heavy voice. “When he. Just joined us.”

The next stretch of silence is filled with something dark and grim. Red Hood’s heavy footsteps are the only sounds in it. Clark holds his breath and tries not to move from place by the door he’d squeezed himself into.

Batman collapses to sit on the bed. He obviously needs something to do with his hands, so he grabs the neon t-shirt and his fingers fidget with the material for a long minute, before he decides to fold it. He does it unexpectedly carefully, in just a few motions that look practiced and well-known. Robin hands him another piece of clothing and he folds that, too. Soon, a neat pile forms on the bed.

Superboy feels… wrong. Unneeded, a stranger among a grieving family.

Then, Red Hood speaks up in an indignant tone:

 _“_ Okay, was anybody gonna tell me Timmy is bi or was I supposed to find out from this photo on the wall?!”

Oh, right. Elliot told him once he’s bi. Did he know that Tim’s bi? Kon’s not sure.

“He’s by _what_?” Robin asks, confused.

“Bisexual. That’s when-”

“I know what ‘bisexual’ means!” Damian splutters. “You could’ve said so from the very beginning instead of using some lowly shortening...”

There’s a picture on the wall of Tim and his local friends. There’s a lot of people wearing really colorful clothes behind them, confetti in the air. All of them are wearing flags – a rainbow one on the Dark Curls guy, the one in pinks and reds on the Leather Jacket Girl, blue and pink stripes on the other girl’s – oh, maybe _not_ a girl after all, on this picture the long hair is hidden and there’s pants and a really spacey shirt. Tim’s standing in the middle, a bi flag wrapped around his shoulders, face paint in purples on his cheeks. He’s smiling and his eyes are closed, like a content cat’s.

Batman’s staring at the picture.

“I didn’t know this,” he says.

Then, he’s turning to stare at Conner.

“Let’s go downstairs,” Clark says suddenly. “You said the cat turns up eventually, so why don’t we just make some tea and wait?”

“Good idea,” Batman says in the most non-enthusiastic voice imaginable. “Robin, lead the way.”

Kon’s one of the first to leave the room. He decides to busy himself with the tea in the kitchen to avoid eye-contact with the others. However, Batman and Hood take their time getting back from upstairs. When Robin tries to go back up, Clark gently stops him.

They must be talking about something. So, naturally, Superboy stretches his hearing to listen.

“ _No_ , I should have made sure he trusted me to tell me things,” Batman says in an angry whisper. Despite Hood being there, Kon doubts the anger’s directed at him. “I should have known. I should have know he’s been missing and instead...”

“You know I’m like the first to blame ya’ for _whatever_ , but NO, you couldn’t have known. If what Death said is true, _no one_ could.”

Kon suddenly stops listening – maybe because of the headache the overusing of his barely-returned strength brings, or maybe for other reasons.

He’s not sure when Batman and Red Hood return from the second floor, but only Hood pours himself a cup of tea from the counter.

Batman broods in front of the big window that’s overlooking the sea. Hood takes the opposite window, the one that’s facing the forest.

Not a minute passes when the calm is shattered.

“Does that kid over there have hoofs or am I trippin’?” Red Hood asks in an unnaturally calm voice.

There’s a kid at the edge of the forest, standing eerily still. His upper body is shirt-free and tanned. His lower part is long, goat-like legs covered in brown fur and ending with hoofs.

“Maybe it’s a costume?” Robin asks weekly.

“His eyes are glowing in the dark,” Clark chimes in. “Human eyes are not supposed to do that.”

“Is this a horror movie?” Red Hood asks casually.

“Are we in a horror movie, Bruce?” Clark asks, much less calmly.

“Calm down,” Batman says.

Everyone’s at the window, so Kon has to squeeze his way to it to see better. The kid must’ve noticed them standing there, by the window, but that changed nothing for him – he’s still standing there, on the forest edge. His hair is brown, just like the fur on his legs, and that seems familiar somehow. Kon has to use his superpowers to see better, and, as soon as he does, he turns to the door and runs towards the forest.

Because, he knows this kid – even though he’d seen him only once, he has a memory for faces he almost wishes he hadn’t, not ever being able to forget one.

The kid’s cheeks and nose are covered in freckles, his eyes are as brown as his hair and fur.

He’s the kid who Elliot – no, _Tim_ – had on his couch once, all wrapped up in blankets. Didn’t he say that the kid got hurt in the forest?

Conner has to slow down as he’s getting closer to the kid so not to spook him. From this close, he can see small horns, like the ones young lambs have when they’re just starting to grow, barely visible in the curly hair.

Kon approaches the kid purposely slowly, making sure his hands can be seen. Painstakingly-slowly, he crotches in front of the kid. The kid’s brows are furrowed and his posture is tense, but he does not run away.

“Hey there,” Kon starts carefully. “D’you remember me? I once saw you in Tim’s… Elliot’s house. He told me you got hurt? I. Something’s happened to him and I really need to find Cookie, his cat, to help. Maybe you know where she is?”

The kid looks at him and blinks slowly.

“Shit, you probably don’t even understand me,” Kon mutters under his breath, because it’s just occurred to him that a forest child in Greece may not be fluent in English.

The kid blinks once more.

Then, he outstretches his hand to Kon, palm up.

“Um,” Superboy says, confused. “D’you wanna something?”

The kid brings his hand closer to Kon.

“Take his fuckin’ hand!” Red Hood hollers from afar.

The kid bares his teeth. Kon turns around to see the others, all huddled together near the house’s entrance.

“It’s okay,” he says softly to the kid. “They’re friends. They just wanna help.”

And carefully places his hand into the kid’s. The child grabs him with unexpectedly strong fingers.

His hand is warm. Kon does not know why it surprises him.

As soon as they enter the forest, heavy footsteps follow them behind. Kon turns around to see Superman, Batman, Robin and Red Hood following at a distance. The kid that’s leading him somewhere deeper into the woods must have noticed them, too, because Kon caught a glimpse of an irritated glance towards them, but the distance they’re keeping must satisfy him for now.

“Conner,” he hears Clark murmur, so Superboy concentrates his hearing on him. “What do you think this lil’ guy wants from us?”

“I don’t know,” Kon answers, also whispering. “But, before, when I visited him, Tim would go here, to the forest, a lot. Oh, and he also told me to stay away from this place and never go in without him.”

“That’s reassuring,” Clark sighs.

Kon can hear the others asking in low whispers what Clark means by that. Oh, yeah, they can only hear one side of the conversation, with all of the distance and purposefully hushed voices.

“He also said not to listen if some girls start whispering from the trees. I thought he was just messing with me. But. Ugh, I guess you better tell the others?”

Kon’s not exactly telling Clark the whole truth – back then he was sure that Elliot was jealous. He really wanted him to be jealous. He wonders now how many more things with Tim he misinterpreted or didn’t understand.

He’s not sure for how long they walk – but he’s sure he can’t remember the path. It turns and turns and all of the trees look the same and on top of that – the forest is dark. It takes time for his eyes to get accustomed to the darkness, but when they do, he starts noticing that the forest floor glows in a soft, barely noticeable yellowish light.

He wonders if the others noticed.

He wonders if coming here was a good idea.

“No, Dami,” Red Hood says suddenly, loud enough for Kon and the kid leading them to hear. “You can’t adopt a forest fairy child.”

Everyone turns to look at Jason.

The kid’s fingers around Kon’s tighten when he turns to scoff at the group following them.

However, he does not stop.

“What?” Hood says with a cheeky grin, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think that needed to be said. I’ve seen that look before.”

“I had no intentions whatsoever…!” Damian starts indignantly, but Batman stops him.

There’s a clearing before them, and there’s something glowing in the middle of it. The kid drags Kon there, now walking much faster, his hoofs sending soil flying into different directions.

There’s a young tree, just a little bit shorter than Conner, but lush and healthy. There’s a bright red ribbon tied to one of the branches and a rock carved figuring – it reminds Kon of a very basic doll.

And to the right, there’s a girl. Her hair and eyes are in earthy tones and her skin is green with brownish splotches that make it look like a bark of a tree. She looks up at their team entering the clearing and hisses, baring rows of sharp-looking, needle-like teeth.

“What the fuck,” Kon hears Red Hod whisper, and he finds himself in total agreement with the other man’s statement.

The child lets go off Kon’s fingers and strides towards the girl. He touches her face and stares at her intently. The…. Lamb? Goat? He’ll have to think up a way to call him something later. Maybe, later still, he can ask Tim to clarify.

Yes, that’d be good.

Okay, he really has to get his mind on track – especially when Robin lifts his arm sharply, pointing somewhere behind the Tree-girl.

“Cat!” he exclaims.

Kon takes a step forward almost involuntary, because yes – on the ground behind the girl’s legs there’s an orange cat, lying on a patch of moth and surrounded by glowing flowers.

As soon as he takes one more step closer, the girl hisses again, the snarl now permanent on her face.

Something slashes through the air and only instinct helps Kon evade the attack.

When he takes another step back, he sees long branches retreating into the girl’s hands, like claws.

The boy beside her beats the ground with his hoofs frantically, making a loud, distressed bleating-like noise. The Tree-girl turns to him and they stare at each other – it looks like they’re communicating silently.

The others use the distraction to approach Conner.

“She doesn’t look good,” Clark says, nodding at the cat visible behind the Tree-girl’s legs. “Her heartbeat is all wrong.”

Superboy listens in and has to agree – the heartbeat from the small body is erratic and heavy.

“If what Timmy told you about magic is true and it is a type of energy, won’t the witch and the familiar be connected by it?” Red Hood says in a heavy voice. “And if the connection is severed...”

Batman does not turn and does not move, but Kon hears, barely-there and with the super-hearing, the shuddering breath that the man takes.

“Let me try,” Robin says suddenly and turns to Batman. “Father, please, let me try.”

After a thoughtful pause, Batman nods.

Robin sighs, stilling himself, and takes a careful step forward, his hands palms up in a placating gesture.

The Tree-girl watches his every move, but does not bare her teeth at him.

So, step by step, Damian is able to get to the cat, watched by their team and, on the other side - by the two magical children.

When Robin leans down to the cat, whispering to her something in what Kon thinks must be Arabic, Cookie is completely obscured from their view. Superboy has nothing else to do but stand there and stare at the boy with hoofs paw the ground.

“What is he, what do you think?” Clark asks Kon in a hushed whisper. “A goat or a lamb?”

Kon can’t help the startled laugh that escapes his lips.

“I swear I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout the same question,” he answers.

“You two serious? He’s a fawn!” Red Hood’s scandalized whisper joins in. “He’s gotta lighter spots and all! You are farm people, aren’t y’supposed to know animals?”

“Quiet,” Batman says sternly, while Red Hood answers accusingly:

“ _They_ started it!”

While they were talking, Robin managed to pick Cookie off the ground, wrapping his cape around the cat. He moves slowly, carefully, all the time being watched by the Tree-Girl and the Fawn-boy.

When he finally manages to get back to the others and Kon can finally see the cat, he gasps.

She’s not looking good. Not at all.

Her mouth is open and tongue lolling, Cookie breathes hard, her whole body rocking, trembling with the motion.

“Hey, girl,” Kon says, coming closer, and hears his own voice tremble.

The cat doesn’t turn or react, her eyes are glassy and unfocused, unseeing. Kon takes another step closer, the hissing Tree-girl be damned, and carefully, gently runs his finger up the cat's nose to her forehead.

That’s the way she loves to be petted, absolutely _adores_ , would usually go out of her way to put her head anywhere near Kon’s hands to have him do it.

Cookie doesn’t react now, her eyes as unseeing as before.

“We need to move and fast!” Batman says.

“But Father, she’s _ill_!” Robin splutters in horrified disbelief.

Kon finds himself in the middle of a horrible dilemma. He understands Damian’s horror, because Cookie _does_ look bad. But he also understands Batman – if they don’t hurry and bring the cat to where they left Tim’s body, what if it’s too late?

The Fawn-boy solves the problem for him, coming up to Kon and tugging him to the opposite side of the clearing.

“Well, we better follow him,” Clark suggests and then turns to the Tree-girl. “We apologize for the intrusion!”

With Robin trying not to disturb the cat in his arms too much, their procession moves in a much slower pace then before.

Kon’s already gearing up to fly back to place where they’ve left Tim, his own weakness be damned, but then they take a sharp turn to the left and the path opens up to a hill covered with trees and there’s The Hut in the middle of it.

The Fawn-boy lets go of his hand, but holds his gaze for a long moment, trying to convey something.

Kon thinks he understands, so he nods.

Batman has crouched in front of Robin and is telling him something. Red Hood is holding onto the boy’s shoulder.

Oh, right.

He didn’t know.

“We goin’ in?” Clark asks softly, and only the slight accent creeping back in betrays his nervousness.

Following Tim’s family, Conner enters the hut.

It’s just like they left it – the flowers, the platform made of stone with the body on it. The smell of decay Kon’s sure the ordinary humans in their group are unable to detect.

Cookie meows, a weak, distressed noise and squirms in Damian’s grip. Her eyes are still unfocused and glassy.

Robin places the cat onto Tim’s chest, right under his hands and the red flowers.

Robin’s hands are shaking.

Cookie squirms again, turning her body slightly, painfully slow. Her head brushes Tim’s fingers – cold, unmoving. She meows again, and it sounds like a quiet, sad question.

Then, the cat opens her mouth and licks his finger, her tongue unhealthy white.

Nothing happens.

Kon remembers how she used to do this to El—Tim. To Tim.

And his skin would become angry-pink ‘cause of the amount of effort the cat would put into cleaning her owner’s hand and he’d always dismiss Kon’s questions with why he won’t make her stop, and then once he’d told him that that’s how cats behave with their family, by grooming each other – so he’s not going to make her stop when she’s practically telling him he’s her family, right? And then his eyes got so sad, but he laughed at the next lame joke Kon said, and now he won’t laugh ever again because he is d...

There’s a golden glow surrounding the windows and a gush of wind slams the door closed.

The windows rattle and the storm-shutters outside close, too, leaving the only room of the hut in a pitch-black darkness.

Then, there’s a melodic, breezy laugh.

And a warm, yellowish glow filling the air.

No.

It’s not yellow.

It’s _golden_.

Just as golden as the hair and eyes of a creature that’s standing in the middle of the room, near Tim’s body.

The creature meets Kon’s eyes and smiles.

“You!” Superboy roars and tries to fling himself at it, only to be caught by Superman and dragged back.

The bats are already standing with their weapons at the ready.

The creature tilts it’s head, looking around is surprise, as if it didn’t expect to appear here, in this place.

Cookie moves. Her lower paws seem unable to move, but her upper ones are trying to.

The golden-haired creature turns it’s head towards the cat sharply.

It doesn’t smile anymore, furrowing it’s perfect golden eyebrows instead.

It comes closer and runs it’s hand through Cookie’s fur. The gesture doesn’t seem threatening, but Kon’s not going to leave it to chance.

“Let go off me!” he screams at Clark. “It’s this _thing_ that was with the knife, that did it to Tim!”

The atmosphere in the room changes and the Batman, if it’s possible, becomes even more menacing.

Before he has a chance to move, Robin tugs at his cape:

“Stop! Look!”

Cookie’s fur looks different now.

The whole of her looks different.

Healthy. Healed.

She sits up on Tim’s chest and purrs towards the creature.

“What the fuck,” Kon says and does not pay attention to Clark’s reprimand.

The creature’s eyes are on him once again.

They’re golden, but not warm at all.

The creature takes a step towards Conner and Superman that’s still holding him in place.

Cookie hisses, loud and menacing.

The thing turns around, surprise on it’s falsely-angelic face. As soon as it moves away from Conner, the cat calms down.

Why is the thing here?

Why did it attack Tim, before?

Nothing adds up.

“Whatever you are, you must be here for a reason,” Batman says. “I want my son back. Death said someone else has his soul. Is that you? I’d give anything to have him back, just name your price!”

The creature does not answer.

It only smiles.

It smiles when it turns to Tim’s body.

When it lifts Cookie off his chest.

When it leans down, looking over Tim’s face with half-hooded eyes and that disgusting smile.

When it presses it’s lips to Tim’s.

They all sprang into action in an unseen before accord, bolting forward simultaneously.

They can’t reach Tim, something not letting even weapons get any closer to the platform, as if there’s a force field around it. That doesn’t stop them from trying to move past the invisible wall, though all blows seem futile.

“What, we just gotta watch this _thing_ make out with baby-bird’s _corpse_?” Red Hood asks with as much powerless anger as Kon feels.

But then, the creature straightens and moves away from the platform languidly, glowing golden light at it’s feet.

It doesn’t matter anymore.

Because.

There’s a heartbeat.

“Bruce!” Clark calls.

Kon turns just in time to see the pale fingers twitch.

The heartbeat gets stronger. Faster.

Actually, it’s too fast now, Tim must be panicking and Kon’s supposed to get there, be by his side, but his legs won’t move.

There’s something wrong with Tim’s breathing, it’s erratic and ragged, just like. _Before_.

Kon doesn’t want to think about _before_ but he does anyway and the terror freezes him to the ground.

Tim gasps and opens his eyes, red flowers falling out of his hands.

Red Hood does not have Kon’s problem and moves just fine, so he’s the first to reach Tim and haul him up into a sitting position by the lapels of his shirt.

Tim allows himself to be manhandled and his shoulders sag heavily and his mouth is open, catching air like he can’t quite get enough.

He’s still pale.

When Hood touches Tim’s hands, the bigger man shivers.

Something’s wrong.

“Jay?” Tim says in a weak voice, like he can’t believe it.

“S’me, Timmy, kiddo,” Hood says in a whisper that sounds loud in the quiet room.

He puts his hands on Tim’s shoulders – but then Tim’s shaking them off hastily, his hand flying up to cover Jason’s eyes as he leans to the side and throws up.

Tim's skin is sickly-pale and sweaty. 

He's shaking.

“M’dying,” Tim whispers hoarsely when he finally finds it in himself to straighten himself up as much as he’s able to.

“No, no, kiddo, you–” Jason says and it sounds wet.

Tim’s heart is beating fast, way too fast for it to be normal.

“Wouldn’t. You know if. If you were, _again_?” Tim asks through heavy, panting gasps.

The smell of decay that Kon felt in the room when he first entered didn’t go anywhere – instead, it has gotten stronger.

There’s a splotch of dark-red on Tim’s abdomen, growing in size.

Batman finally finds his way to the platform – something Kon still can’t force himself to do, frozen in place, feeling detached from his body.

“Tim,” is all Batman says, but that’s enough.

Tim raises his head to look at him and it seems that he has only now noticed there was someone but Jason in the room.

“Bruce?” he asks, voice small and scared. “You remember me?”

He sounds young, and maybe 19 _is_ too young to have been alone and forgotten for so long, to be in so much pain.

Batman must be thinking something similar, or maybe he’s not thinking at all, because he’s at Tim’s side in one step, slipping the heavy gauntlets off his hands. He pulls Tim closer to his chest with care, as if not sure which movement can hurt him, and puts his hand over Tim’s head, as if that could help shield his son from the world around them.

“I’m sorry,” Tim is whimpering, “I didn’t want you to see this, you didn’t have to see this… Please, just, go!”

Hood holds on to Tim from the other side, partly covering Batman’s hands with his own.

“Sweetheart,” Batman says softly. “We want to be with you anyway.”

That’s when Tim starts to weep silently and that’s probably too much for his already labored breathing, because Batman and Hood detach themselves from him to give him more air.

There’s dark blood running down his nose and lips and tear tracks on his cheeks.

Kon can’t see anything past the grim line of Batman’s lips because of the cowl, but Hood’s eyes are visible and full of tears and dread.

Together, the two men lay Tim back down onto the platform – he doesn’t seem to be able to support himself anymore. Jason’s leather jacket is covering Tim like a blanket and Batman’s cape is made into a pillow to put under his neck – and Kon can’t help but wonder, how many times had Batman done it for Red Robin and his other children – and has it ever been like this, with all of hope slipping away with each ragged breath taken?

Both Batman and Hood still hold onto Tim’s hands, as much as they dare. Batman presses their foreheads together and whispers something to him and Tim's crying and Kon doesn't bother to listen to it because Tim’s dying all over again and this is _hell_.

Then, a gust of warm air surges though the room.

There’s three figures that appear behind the platform with all of it’s flowers, but Kon can’t find it in himself to care about their new guests because all he can hear is the weakening of Tim’s heartbeat.

However, he can no longer ignore the newcomers when a woman comes closer to Tim, somehow managing to not even spare a glance at Red Hood and Batman surrounding him.

The woman makes a _tsk_ sound with her tongue and shakes her head.

“Marie?” Tim asks hoarsely.

His lips are blue.

“Mon cher,” the woman says. “What is _this_? You disappoint me.”

“Who the hell-” Red Hood starts but he’s abruptly stopped with a simple flick of the woman’s fingers.

“Uh-huh, didn’t your daddy teach ya not to use foul language?” she asks. Her accent feels very French.

The woman snaps her fingers and both Batman and Hood step away from Tim, their movements all wrong and forced, as if they’re dolls some huge hand is playing with. Batman resists the most, so the woman clicks her tongue disapprovingly and another wave of air, this time cold, rushes through the room.

Kon finds that he can’ t move, and behind him Clark and Damian also stay motionless. It feels like he’s been bound with barbed wire, his lips glued together. It’s such a helpless feeling and he’s literally getting sick of magic users doing this to him - so he concentrates all the strength and stubbornness he has to fight the invisible power that’s holding him down.

The woman uses the clear path to Tim she’s made for herself and grabs him by the chin, turning his face this way and that. The blood stains the edges of the long sleeves on her white blouse.

“S’rry” Tim’s purplish lips whisper.

His eyes are closed. His heartbeat is slow.

“Oh, you’ll work that off, _sweetheart_ ,” she says in a menacing tone and lets go off Tim’s face. “Take him, boys.”

Two men appear from the shadows where they had stood, motionless. Just as the woman, the two men are black, but their eyes are milky-white, iris-less.

They lift Tim from the platform in one smooth motion.

They’re going to take him away.

Kon won’t stand and watch Tim being taken away from him!

Moving his feet is a tremendous effort that makes his whole body shake, and opening his mouth is even harder, but he still does it, stepping an inch forward and calling out:

“Tim!”

Tim’s eyes open just enough to meet Kon’s. There are purple circles that make his eyes look sunken and his skin is pale and clammy, but his lips murmur something that sounds like Kon’s name.

“Huh,” the woman says with a strange grin, approval in her eyes while looking at Conner. “Strong.”

And disappears with the two men and Tim, leaving them in complete darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [poem ](https://am-xcvi.tumblr.com/post/180308063842/it-was-in-that-first-drop-of) \- tw flashing gif
> 
>    
> [Death of the Endless looks like this](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/marvel_dc/images/e/ed/Action_Comics_Vol_1_894_Textless.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130425171749)  
> [her hair used to be more wild in the Vertigo comic](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9b/41/40/9b4140b056c8ae1c236da13ac6ed4201.jpg)


	18. Is that really you? And what if you’re perfectly happy without me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon contemplates things.  
> Batman gears up for war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow I unexpectedly finished a chapter. Guess today's update is as much of a surprise for me as it is for you XD

The Bat-jet takes them back to Smallville and everyone’s so tired that no one wants to break the silence. As soon as they arrive, Kon just goes upstairs to his room, straight-up ignoring Ma, and falls onto his bed. He hopes Clark will explain everything to her and he won’t have to talk about it.

He sleeps for 13 hours and when he wakes up, he stays in the bed some more, staring up at the selling.

When he finally drags himself out of the bed and goes downstairs, there’s a surprise waiting for him at the dinner table.

“Hey,” Cassie says, her smile tense.

Bart just waves at him with the sandwich that’s currently occupying his hand.

Which is odd, because usually Bart does not have food left in his hands for that long.

Something’s wrong.

Both Cassie and Bart seem subdued, stiff. The dawning realization that they _know_ finally hits Kon.

“So, Red Hood told us everything,” Cassie says, confirming his worst fears. “Or, well, probably not everything. I’m pretty sure it wasn't everything.”

“RH’s cool!” Bart says. “How come Tim never brought him around?”

“Probably 'cause you got so exited at him swearing that you started copying him,” Cassie scoffs, but there's mirth in her gaze.

“Hey! I'm not a _kid_ and I'm allowed to swear as much as I wanna!” Bart yelps, indignant.

“Tim's good with kids,” Kon suddenly understands. “He's got that whole job at the local school on the island.”

That effectively kills off the playfulness of the conversation.

Ma passes by the table, putting on it a plate for him. She pats Kon on the shoulder softly, giving him a sympathetic, knowing look.

“Thanks, Ma,” Kon says, and it's not about the food at all.

“Anytime, sweetie,” she says softly.

Ma leaves them after asking if the others want any more food.

They do not.

“So,” Cassie starts, after clearing her throat. “It was really Tim, wasn't it?”

Kon nods, because the words get stuck in his throat.

Bart puts half of his sandwich back onto the plate and starts spinning it in slow circles.

“We,” he says, slowly. “Found the pictures. In the tower.”

“Except we didn't find them, they were always there!” Cassie groans. “Fuck, I just... When I think back to it, I don’t know how I didn't notice! And, in that _house_ , I was blabbering to him about the local traditions and other junk like a goddamn _fool_. Just to think what I made him feel when I just stood there like I didn't know him at all!”

“D’you wanna think back on how _I_ must've made him feel, all these month?” Kon says, feeling bitter bile raising in his throat. He doesn't think he’s going to get hungry any time soon.

Bart looks up at him, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You didn't know,” he says seriously, and sounds much older than he is.

“No one fucking knew and that’s the problem!” Kon yells, banging his fist on the table.

The table rattles, but, thankfully, does not break.

Bart and Cassie look at him with sympathy and Conner immediately feels ashamed.

“I just,” Kon sighs, “I don’t understand how we forgot him so easily.”

“But you didn't _really_ forget him, did you?” Cassie says suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, whatever brought you to that island aside, you did stick around. And continued coming back, again and again. It feels like you remembered, kinda, deep in your soul. I don’t know that much about magic, it works in weird ways, but what I _do_ know is that there’s connections nothing can severe.”

Kon sighs but does not say anything.

The one who didn't forget was Krypto.

Kon had just followed him.

He’s fucking dumber than his own dog.

As always, Bart can’t stand the silence, so he’s the one to start up a conversation again:

“Also, Hood had bitched about not knowing that Tim's bi. We've thought about it,” he nods at Cassie. “And either that evil magic is still on, or we didn't know either.”

The intensity of their gazes makes Kon deeply uncomfortable, so he turns to look out of the window, at Pa at the barn tinkering with the tractor, and shrugs.

“Yeah, I… I didn't know about Tim either.”

“You knew about Elliot, though,” Bart teases. “I’m sure you did ’cause he told you and then you were screaming ’bout it while dancing The Happy Dance in the lounge room in the Tower.”

When Kon does not say anything, Cassie asks:

“Did you change your mind about him? Now that you know who he really is?”

 _You don’t know who I really am_ , Tim-Elliot said to him.

And Kon had thought… He didn't know what he thought but it definitely wasn't ‘I’m actually your best friend you can’t remember’.

“I don’t know. I've misunderstood so many of our interactions. This has gotten so complicated.”

“It’s not complicated at all!” Bart huffs. “You either like him or you don’t.”

“The only downside to this is that now you have to go through Batman – you had more chances before, when no one remembered,” Cassie laughs.

“Cassie, this is _not funny_!” Kon says and understands that his tone is too close to a growl.

“Hey, why are you worried?” she asks, and now there’s soft concern in her voice. “RH told us Tim was breathing when that witch took him, wasn't he?”

“Yeah, the last time I saw him he was breathing, too, and. Well,” Kon gulps, having to hide his hands, because they are shaking. “Hope Hood told you ‘bout that too ‘cause I can’t talk ‘bout it."

Cassie extends her hand to him, but does not make a move to take his, making it Kon’s decision. He grabs her hand anyway, squeezing it with his own. It’s good Cassie’s invulnerable, so he doesn't have to worry about holding on to her too tightly.

“He was really dead?” Bart asks, his voice small.

After him and Bart died and came back, both of them had trauma to work through. But there was still this thing that the others, the ones who were left to live with it every day and every passing hour, had felt in their absence, something that Kon wouldn't even pretend to understand.

Cassie had joined a cult, for fuck’s sake.

And Tim… Tim had done things like trying to clone him, knowing full well that it won’t be the same, but claiming it ‘would have been something’.

Kon hadn’t understood, before.

Maybe he’ll get it _now_.

The rest of the time Bart and Cassie spend on the farm trickles by fast. They do not tease him anymore and do not try to ask about Tim or Elliot or both.

Kon’s grateful for that.

They leave after discussing the Titans business and Kon promising to get back to the Tower after a much needed rest at home.

Then, Kon goes back to bed and sleeps away the rest of the day.

The food Ma had cooked for him stays on the table, untouched.

 

***

 

For the next few days, Kon does not leave the farm.

He’s not exactly hiding from the others, except maybe he does.

He thinks about Tim.

On the second day, when he woke up in the middle of the night, he tried reaching out for Tim’s heartbeat and found it hard to remember, Tim and Elliot mixed up in his head.

He wasn’t lying to Cassie and Bart when he said that it all had gotten complicated.

Tim was his best friend.

His first childhood friend, really.

Someone who knew him – the bad, the good and the embarrassing.

And Elliot was new and exiting and...

No, not _Elliot_.

It was _Tim_ , suffering quietly, as he always does.

Kon remembers how he cried, soundlessly, on his shoulder, when whomever that person he took care of was died.

And that woman who posed as his aunt, Sophia, didn't she die some time before that?

Elliot, _Tim_ had always sounded so sad, wishful, when he talked of her.

He had to bury her, didn't he?

He had to bury someone who, for whatever reason, took care of him and who he cared for in return.

Kon has shuddered then, thinking about how that woman looked like she’s Ma’s and Pa’s age.

He wonders how the funeral had gone. Did Tim have to organize it? Was there someone to support him?

He had to build a life from ground zero – Tim, always a rich boy, a trust fund kid, having to work three jobs, and oh it would've been so funny if it wasn't so sad.

There’s so many things he doesn't know about Tim anymore.

His hair changed, his clothes changed, he’s gotten himself a hive of scary ‘aunts’ and he knows magic.

Is Tim a stranger to him now?

And how many of their interactions has Kon misunderstood?

With these thoughts, Superboy does the chores, helps Pa with the tractor and walks Krypto, avoids the Titans and evades any Tim-related topics Ma tries to bring up.

He sends a few messages to Batman – telling him he’s ready to give any more information if needed and asking for updates.

Batman does not answer.

He stays like that for a few more days, and then his special, league-approved emergency communicator pings.

It’s Nightwing’s code and Conner answers because he hopes it will bring news about Tim.

Instead of sending a news update, Nightwing invites him to brunch.

Getting to the posh restaurant on the rooftop of one of the Gotham’s many skyscrapers is a surreal experience, but that’s where Superboy finds himself a few hours later.

After he gives the staff Dick’s name and the reservation details, he is lead towards a table with a sitting area that’s overlooking the Bay. The place is pretty private and there’s not that many people around, so Conner understands why Dick must've chosen this restaurant.

Dick Grayson is late, fashionably so – as an heir to a wealthy billionaire-playboy should be. He smiles to the staff brightly and compliments the waitress.

As soon as he takes a sit in front of Conner, his blinding smile fades into something soft and tired.

“Hey, Kon, long time no see!” Nightwing says. “How you’re holding up, kiddo?”

After Conner had figured out how much he’s forgotten about Jason, with the man being Tim’s older brother and all, he’s also understood how his perception of the other people in the Bat Clan shifted, Tim not being there.

Because Dick was Tim’s older brother before Jason had even appeared in the picture.

Because Dick was there when they were teens, when they had just formed the Young Justice and Nightwing had frequently visited them, to support and give guidance. Hadn't he attended that parent-teacher thingy Red Tornado once set up? Even when the others on the team were exited about seeing Nightwing, all of them knew he didn't exactly visit for the sake of a newly formed, mostly unknown kids’ superhero team. He did it just for Robin. He’d always been so open with his affection towards his ‘little brother’.

Nightwing and Tim had been really close, once.

Kon can smell the concealer on him. He wonders how bad the bags under Dick’s eyes must be.

“I’m okay,” Kon lies. “What about you?”

“My little brother has been missing and I didn't even notice, so I'm feeling pretty fucked up,” Nighwing says with a self-depreciating chuckle. He downs a glass of water in one go. “The family's going, excuse my wording, bat-shit crazy. Cass and Steph flew back from Hong Kong, Jason is staying at the Manor, _even_ for the nights, Dami's so quiet it's scary. The silverware is polished, all of it, and if it doesn’t scare you it’s because you can’t imagine how much of it Alfred has in the kitchen and some of the back rooms. Kate came over to lure B out of his study, 'cause he stayed there for the whole day and wouldn't open the door no matter how many times we've asked. She's the only one who managed it, but that maybe has got more to do with the fact that she can kick his ass and there’s not much stopping her from it. And we're lucky that the media hasn't realized yet. Duke's probably the only really productive person around, he's gotten himself busy with the data and found some pretty interesting things. Like, you know that 'aunt' you've mentioned, the London one? Well her name is not Ginny, or, at least, her papers say it's not. She's got a UK passport. And a Spanish one. And also one from New Zealand. And they don’t stop there – we’ve also found some from the beginning of the previous century. There’s pictures of her, dated even earlier. And the woman on them looks the same, absolutely the same, to the very last mole. She had different names each time, but the face recognition soft says it's the same person, and who are we to argue with it, right? Oh, and, also, she's been reported missing by her fiancé. Since fall. D'you maybe recall when you saw her?”

Dick had been talking so fast that Conner barely had a moment to think what he's told him. But, what? Ginny's missing?

“Summer, definitely summer. Some time after his birthday.”

“Oh,” Dick says and there's a complicated disarray of emotions passes through his face. He manages to take it under control quickly and smiles. The smile does not quite reach his eyes. “Tim said something about it?”

It's time for Kon now to try and school his expression into something suitable. He's sure he's not as successful as Nightwing.

It's just, it's so easy for Dick to say ‘Tim’ and not get mixed up in what Tim was or maybe wasn't for all of these months. Kon envies him.

“No, he haven’t mentioned anything.”

“Babs found a video with him from London, you wanna see?” Dick says in a soft, understanding voice.

Kon has no idea why the man thinks seeing Tim would make him feel better, but his throat closes on the words, so, not trusting his voice, he just shrugs.

For some reason, Nightwing sees this as an agreement and pulls out his phone.

The video is obviously from a CCTV camera and is taken at a weird angle. It’s still possible to see Tim getting saddled with three paper shopping bags, one bright-blue and two black. The woman, Ginny, walks by his side and then she says something and he laughs, covering his face with one palm.

What strikes Kon is – that’s Tim.

The person he’s gotten so used to calling ‘Elliot’ is really Tim and Kon feels like it’s the first time he actually is starting to believe it, to accept it for what it is, to see _Tim_ in that jeans jacket with a rose pin on the lapel – a gift from some kids in the school he works at.

“He’s got long hair,” Dick says in awe. “Really following in my footsteps, huh...”

“It’s not _that_ long,” Kon says and cringes immediately, because this is exactly what Elliot used to say whenever Kon teased him about his hair.

There’s a heavy and uncomfortable pause after that and probably Kon misses some of it while thinking, because when he finally lifts his eyes to Nightwing, the man’s face looks uncharacteristically solemn, as if he’s been gearing up for some kind of a very serious talk.

“Listen, Conner, I gotta ask you. I won’t judge and I want you to know that I _absolutely_ support you. So. You and Tim, or whatever you called him all these time – were you _romantically_ together? ”

Kon doesn't know if he wants to blush or go completely pale, and whatever his face chooses is probably a very unhealthy-looking mix of both, because the next moment Dick reaches out to take his hand.

“It’s okay, I understand this mustn't have been easy for you, with Bruce looming, so...”

“No! It’s not. We weren't together, we were just friends! Why won’t you all stop asking this!”

“Um, I.” Dick looks confused. “We've been under a general impression something’s been going on between the two of you, I mean, you knew about his _scar_...”

“We went to the _beach_!”

Kon doesn't actually wanna tell Nightwing about how he undressed his little brother, even though it was totally non-sexual and because of the fact that the idiot nearly burnt out because of a fever. And what the fuck is this conversation even. Then, it strikes him.

“Is this why Batman won’t talk to me? I've sent him so many messages, and he never replied. Does he have a problem with Tim being bi or is his problem with me _allegedly_ dating him?”

Batman has been… harsh about aliens previously. Kon has heard he wasn't very pleased with Starfire dating Dick, so is this what it all has been about?

“No, no, no, no, that’s not it at all! He’s not like that, believe me, I would know. He’s just. He’s _ashamed_ that you were there for Tim and he wasn't. And I shouldn't have pressed you into answering, I’m sorry. I just, the two of you always seemed so close and I was so sure you could be so much more. You _really_ don’t want more?”

Kon laughs and it’s bitter.

“I don’t think I _know_ what I want anymore.”

Nightwing sighs, but then a waitress comes back with their orders and he has to pretend to be all cheerful and happy for awhile. Only after she leaves, Dick slumps onto the table.

“Well, it’s been a horrible, terrible situation, but you could always try to take something good out of it. Maybe you've gotten a new perspective on our Timmy. Maybe it made you re-value things. I know it’s hard and scary to move from friends to lovers, but I've always kinda imagined you two could grow into it, given time. And also maybe Clark said something…”

Shit. He did tell Clark something about his feeling towards Elliot, didn't he?

“Well, Clark should've minded his business,” Kon says, feeling the blush creep up his face - but can’t help asking: “Why did you say that you thought all of that stuff ‘bout us? Did Tim say something?”

“No,” Dick answers, and it’s sad. “We haven’t had as much time for each other as we used to, sadly. And it always took him time to get around admitting things like that, even to himself. But I like to think actions speak louder then words. He has always valued _you_ a lot, dare I say – above everyone else. We’ll know for sure when we get him back. Just, promise to think on it, okay?”

Kon promises to do that and, before he can make his hasty retreat, Nightwing calls for his attention:

“There’s a meeting in the _Family place_ tomorrow evening. You are expected to attend. You know where the entrance is, the details about the time will be sent to you.”

He must mean the Bat cave, doesn’t he?

Superboy really hopes he still remembers where it is.

So, Kon nods and gets up, leaving Nightwing to pay for his half-eaten tiramisu.

 

***

All night long, he can’t sleep, thinking about what Nightwing had told him.

A different perspective, huh.

One hell of it.

It was, though.

Different.

Eye-opening.

As if in – if he and Tim haven’t been friends since they were kids, if they met later, he might have seen Tim as hot. He might have started seeing him like that from the very beginning. Might have approached their relationship differently. They might have been something _else_ , from the start, and Tim might have even agreed.

Might have wanted it, too.

At the middle of the night when everyone and everything on the farm are asleep, Kon curls into a ball on his bed and remembers how, after the Failed Kiss, Tim kissed his fingers. How he murmured of how he wanted to tell him everything but couldn't.

Tim had always been special to him. Who says he wouldn't have come to these thoughts eventually, given time.

Maybe Dick was right.

He wants to be with Tim, he wants Tim to want to be with him, he wants things that he may never be allowed to have.

At the very least, he’s ready to be in Tim’s life in any capacity he’d have him.

 

***

The day comes and goes, and the evening of the Bat Meeting arrives. Kon finds out that he remembers how to get there vaguely, and he takes a few wrong turns before finally arriving.

The others are already gathered and are scattered in small groups around the cave. There’s a lot of gestures involved, for either arguing or conversing, Kon can never tell.

Oh, and it looks like they have finally managed to get a hold of John Constantine. Literally, because John is here and Red Hood is standing with him, effectively blocking the exit with his massive body. The exit Constantine has been inching towards, because he obviously doesn't like what Batman is talking about.

“Hahahahaha, NO,” John is saying. “Absolutely not. Non, nie, não, méiyǒu, niet, geen! Oh, and also, do you know what ‘Et ego non sum facturus est’ means in Latin? It’s-”

“It’s ‘I am not going to do it’, I know Latin,” Batman says, sounding tired and angry.

“Wise-arse,” Constantine hisses under his breath, but then smiles the fakest smile Kon had ever seen. “All righty, then, glad we got it settled, mate, I’ll be goin’ then.”

“He’s asking John to lead us to that witch’s liar,” Steph’s voice whispers directly into Kon’s ear.

He barely manages to hold back an undignified squeal. When he turns, Superboy finds both Batgirl and Black Bat beside him.

Damn those stealthy bats.

“I am not asking you to lay your life for us!” Batman yells. The cave becomes very quiet. “Even the location will be enough!”

“And I’m tellin’ ya’ll get killed!! She’s a powerful, centuries old which and ye’r what? Just some bloke in a costume!”

“How don’t you understand, she’s got my kid! I have to try! Please.”

Constantine’s face goes through a complicated series of expressions and stops on a scoff.

“Don’t think that if ya use a nice word I’d suddenly do as you say. If she has yer kid, she has him. _You snooze you lose_ – either the 'aunt' bullocks is true or she wants him to be her boy-toy as some rumors are suggestin’...”

Nightwing turns his head sharply and interjects:

“She wants him to _what_?”

John waves him off.

“Doesn't matter. What matters is that you can’t take him back if she doesn't want to let go.”

“I could. Talk to her?” Batman trails off.

Constantine sighs.

“There was a dispute once, a century or so ago, with those lil cute zombie girls. Then, their owner died. Mysteriously. And Marie Laveau took the girls. I've seen your kid play a nanny for one of them, at the market. The witch queen is not one to be denied. And it’s not like she’s mistreatin' him, right? At least from what I’d seen.”

“I still need to try,” Batman says through gritted teeth.

Constantine looks at him then, really looks. A grim, serious expression settles on his face.

“There is a house,” John Constantine’s sigh is heavy like the weight of the world on his shoulders. “In New Orleans.”

 

***

 

Constantine leads them to the place and leaves.

It’s okay, thought, because that’s exactly what they have agreed on – John said he’ll show them the way to the place that allegedly hosts the infamous Voodoo Queen, but nothing of his involvement will be spoken.

The bats have asked if Kon wants to stay behind, with him being especially vulnerable to magic.

Kon said he does not. No one argued.

The place is an old, crumbling mansion. It must have been painted different bright colors, once, but now the paint has faded. The inside of the house is equally deserted, cobwebs and dust everywhere.

Their superhero costumes look out of place here – but, on the other hand, when do they not.

There’s so many of them here, with almost all of the Batclan, just Batwoman left in charge of Gotham. Oracle still on comms with them, ready send aid at any moment.

Kon wonders if they have ever been so united.

Kon wonders how this will make Tim feel.

Then, he hears clicks of heels on the marble floor.

The floor around them is wooden.

He can’t see anyone. Can’t hear a heartbeat.

There’s a laugh echoing from the staircase leading to a large terrace on the second floor.

The others must have noticed, too, because they draw their weapons.

Everybody holds their breath.

A woman in bright-green head cover appears on the terrace of the second floor. She’s leaning on the railings and smiling at them.

It is not a good smile.

“Aren't you _rude_ ,” she clicks her tongue. “Inviting yourself into my house like that.”

“You have my son,” Batman says, obviously having decided to go straight to the point.

Oh, it’s not like the plan Signal, Superboy and Nightwing had worked on on their way here meant anything, right?

“I want Tim back,” Batman continues.

“Ain't it sweet?” the woman who must be Marie Laveau says. “I bet Timmy would've been delighted if he could hear you right now.”

She smiles with almost feral delight and Dick snaps.

“Listen, lady!” he yells towards the second floor. “I don’t know what you gotta planned there for my brother but I do know that I would go through anything and anyone to get him back!”

Nightwing getting angry and how to stop him is another part of the plan him and Red Hood, Robin and Batgirl covered in another planning session, but they do not have any time to act on it because they are all being surrounded by gray, shadowy figures.

“Anything and anyone, you say,” the woman hums. She sounds amused. “Try these, then.”

Then the figures attack, all at ones. Kon thinks at first that this will be easy, but it’s not. The creatures or whatever they are manage to block every punch.

“It’s like they know any move before it even happens!” Signal screams somewhere to his right.

“Act without thinking!” Nightwing yells in a command voice.

“Easier for some then the others,” Red Hood manages to joke from somewhere behind Kon.

He really has no time to pay attention to the others, because even though he’s pretty sure magic is not draining his powers, they seem useless – he can’t surprise the creature he’s fighting no matter how hard he tries.

The woman on the terrace laughs.

Kon doesn’t know how long it takes, but he can feel himself getting tired.

Can see Black Bat stagger, which is terrifying.

There’s heavy panting and grunts of fight around him, but the shadowy creatures remain alert and easy on the move.

The witch queen does not seem to be interested in influencing the fight – Kon manages to steal a glance at her, still on the terrace, and immediately misses a hit.

Despair grasps Kon’s heart – is this it? They, locked in uneven fight with some strange creatures while an immortal witch amuses herself with their struggle? Will they never get to see...

“STOP,” a loud voice commands.

It feels like it’s coming from all sides of the room at once. It’s loud and confident as if sure that the one word is enough to make everyone listen.

More importantly, the voice is _Tim’s_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch title - 25 lives by Tongari
> 
> the last chapter to be posted in less then a week. We're almost there, guys!!


	19. I’m living, babe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time they talked, isn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, just to clear it up:
> 
> Bruce is Batman  
> Kate Kane is Batwoman  
> Barbara Gordon is Oracle  
> Dick Grayson is Nightwing  
> Jason Todd is Red Hood  
> Duke Tomas is Signal  
> Cass Cain is Black Bat  
> Steph Brown is Batgirl  
> Damian is Robin and is 14 years old.  
> (if he was 10 when he appeared in the Manor and Tim must've been at least 15, then this works with Tim being 19, almost 20, in this fic)

The fight stops.

There’s a figure standing at the far right corner of the terrace, leaning heavily on the rails.

He’s wearing a knitted sweater that looks too big on him, his face looks way too thin, there’s circles under his eyes and his hair looks matted, too flat on one side.

He’s so beautiful it takes Kon’s breath away.

Because it’s Tim, living, breathing, _Tim_.

There’s a heavy, charged silence around and Superboy knows without turning what all of the bats are looking at.

The witch, it turns out, is as stunned to see him as they are.

“Why the _hell_ are you out of bed?” she asks, perturbed.

Tim smiles a smug smile that looks kinda creepy on his pale face.

“I'll do you a better one – _how_ the hell I'm out of bed? 'cause I feel like I'm gonna keel over in, like, 3...2...”

Tim sways. The witch queen dashes towards the other corner of the terrace to catch him. When she does, he looks at her and honest to god _giggles:_

“Got you!”

The woman flicks him on the nose.

“You insufferable child!” she says, but wraps her arms protectively around him.

Tim, relaxed in her hold, turns back to them, looking down on the battle stopped midway.

“You having fun?” he says, half-turning towards the woman.

“It’s like watching movies Wu is so fond of,” the woman answers, scrunching her nose. “But, _u_ _gh_ , you superhero types are all too serious.”

Tim laughs.

“That they are,” then, Tim finally turns his attention to them downstairs. “There's a secret all of you should know – Marie's got a _horrible_ sense of humor.”

The witch tries to flick him on the nose again and this time Tim manages to evade her hand. She is smiling, though.

“Look around,” Tim says down to them. “There's nothing beside you. You've been fighting windmills.”

They look and see the gray figures beside them turning the same way they do, as if mirroring their movements.

Kon sees Dick raise his hand and the figure beside him does the same.

“What the fuck,” Red Hood says from behind Kon.

The figure that’s beside Superboy turns it’s head the same way he does.

They’re not real, Kon thinks. If Tim says they’re not real – they’re not.

He closes his eyes, concentrating on the thought.

Breathes in.

Breathes out.

When he opens his eyes, there’s not a trace of the shadowy figure beside him.

Around him, the others’ opponents are disappearing, too.

The witch is still holding Tim.

“Should’ve let them stay like that for longer,” she says to Tim, despite looking down angrily at their group.

“Marie, that’s mean!” Tim gasps. “You can’t treat guests like that! What would Lif say?”

“ _I’d_ say her hospitality code is outdated, but it’s not like you’d listen to me,” the witch huffs. “Okay, whatever, they can enter!”

She frees one of her hands and lifts it. Then, she snaps her fingers.

Like a mirror breaking, the room around them cracks.

Pieces of what they've perceived as this house fall away and disappear.

The room is not dusty and wooden.

The wallpapers are colorful and the staircases leading up to the terrace are made of marble. The terrace itself looks like something out of French royal palaces, with all of the golden details on the railing.

Everything changed, but Tim is still standing there, looking pale and tired. The witch is still holding one of her hands on his shoulder. She looks down at the group of heroes and lets him go.

“I’ll have the tables prepared for all of us. You need to drink your medicine and eat anyway,” she says and then squints at the group downstairs. “And you better explain to your guests what hospitality _means_ – I don’t want anything in my house getting broken.”

Just like that, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, the one they came here ready to fight, leaves.

Even before she disappears from view, Black Bat darts up the stairs, ripping off her cowl on the way and throwing it to the ground. She reaches Tim so fast that Kon, once again, can’t believe she’s not a meta.

When she collides with Tim, he gasps in pain, but hugs her back.

“I missed you too, Cass,” Tim says, smiling into her hair.

Nightwing is the second to reach the terrace and throw his arms around the both of them, murmuring something to Tim. The others follow soon after, crowding Tim, patting his shoulders or joining on in the growing pile of the group hug.

And Kon just… freezes. He looks at Tim being lifted into the air by Stephanie and feels like an intruder.

Especially when Tim laughs a full and happy laugh and looks at Batgirl with loving eyes.

Especially when Batman steps closer and calls for Tim, his voice soft, gentle and sad.

“You _do_ remember me,” Tim says and it’s a little bit tired and a little bit awed. “I though I dreamed it.”

Batman brings his arms around Tim and presses him close to his chest. Tim does not object, hugging him back just as tightly.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Batman apologizes, more emotion in his voice than Kon had ever heard.

“It’s okay,” Tim says softly, calmingly. “I’m here now.”

Tim’s here.

Really here.

It makes Kon unfreeze and finally force himself to move up the stairs.

“ _Right_. Here,” Red Hood sneers. “You've been _here_ for four whole ass days, why in the name of lovin' fuck haven’t you contacted us?!”

Tim blinks in surprise at him.

“It’s been _four days_? I’m sorry, I wasn't totally present.”

“Has the witch been holding you prisoner?” Robin asks, his voice dripping poison.

It’s the first time in hours Kon hears him talk. The kid keeps his eyes glued to Tim, but still, does not approach him, choosing to stay a few feet away from the others.

Tim turns to Damian and stares at the younger Robin, his mouth agape.

“God, you've grown,” Tim says with warmth in his voice and eyes.

Oh, right, the change that seemed gradual to Kon is all new for Tim. At fourteen, Damian doesn't have to look up at Tim anymore, they’re almost the same height. He’s also in that lanky, awkward stage of a teenage boy when his limbs and body are not exactly proportional, and Superboy silently thanks the clone lab for sparing him from that experience.

Damian looks down, clenching his teeth. That makes his face look angry and it could've been more believable if his cheeks weren't flushed.

“But, um, _no_ , Marie’s not been holding me prisoner,” Tim says and he sounds amused. “I feel like you've been severely misinformed about her – she’s been taking care of me, this four days and before that, too. I wish you could be at lest civil, she’s pretty much family to me now.”

Damian crosses his arms, but still does not meet Tim’s eyes.

“Why hasn't she bothered to inform us that she meant no harm?”

“Would you have believed her?” Tim says calmly and then looks at Batman. “Would you have _listened_?”

There’s an uneasy pause after that, and then a woman’s voice strikes right at it, coming from somewhere downstairs.

“Food and medicine!” the witch queen’s voice is carried up to the terrace.

“I’m coming!” Tim yells back. “You all are welcome to the table as well, there’s a tradition we've all adopted – sharing the meal with guests is an agreement not to harm each other and is taken _very_ seriously. So, please, be respectful.”

Tim turns towards the staircase quite confidently but then has to lean on the rail after taking just one step down.

Kon’s heart skips a beat, but before he has time to act Black Bat is already holding Tim, letting him lean on her. The others surround him just as fast, fussing and worrying.

“I wasn't totally joking when I said I was about to keel over,” Tim grimaces. “Sorry.”

Red Hood pushes through the crowd.

“Okay, give this to me,” he says to Cass, pointing at Tim.

Black Bat looks at him for just a moment, her gaze deep and dark, as if reaching into his soul.

Then, she smiles and steps aside.

“Wha-?” Tim only manages to say before he is lifted by Red Hood’s hands and is carried down the stairs.

When Jason puts Tim down, he is met with a very disgruntled expression.

“You are very lucky,” Tim says, looking him dead in the eye. “That I am too tired to hex you right now.”

The witch queen’s voice calls for Tim again, more irritated now, so Tim asks them to follow him. They go through the inner yard, which is full of trees in bloom and peacocks.

There’s a table big enough to fit all of them and then some in the dining hall. Tim sinks heavily into a chair to the left of the big, jewel encrusted throne-like armchair and the witch queen appears behind him, having one of her hands on his shoulder and the other – on the back of the jeweled chair.

She looks expectantly at Batman, one eyebrow raised sarcastically.

Batman straightens his back.

“May we please join you for the meal?” he asks carefully.

“Ain't all that facecover gonna get in the way of you eating?” the woman asks, a smirk on her lips, her eyes glimmering.

Tim looks minutely horrified and turns to the woman:

“Marie, that’s important, you can’t just-”

“No, Tim,” Batman cuts in, his voice now filled with determination. “ _You’re_ more important.”

He then pulls off his cowl, revealing a very tired Bruce Wayne with gray hairs in his dark hair – the ones he usually covers up for his public appearances, but didn't bother to today. The others follow shortly after him, taking off cowls, helmets and unglueing masks.

“Also, leaving the masks on wouldn't be very polite to our host, would it?” he adds and smiles a sharp smile.

The woman, Marie, smiles back at him, no less sharp – but her eyes look pleased. Then, she gestures for him to take the chair to her right.

“Your children can sit, too,” she says, as soon as Batman is in the chair.

Spoiler screams something about not being Batman’s child, but it gets lost in the noise of the others squabbling and fighting to get to sit near Tim. It ends with the Signal somehow managing to sneak there unnoticed, while the others fight.

When the other places are being distributed, Kon once again finds himself feeling misplaced.

Tim still hadn't even looked at him.

He takes one of the last sits available, only Damian sitting after him.

There’s food on the table that wasn't there last time Kon looked.

He notices even Batman look surprised, for a mere second. The benefit of seeing his face instead of the cowl's permanent scowl, Superboy guesses. Good, so the food really wasn't there and Kon hasn't spaced out that much.

The sudden appearance of food does not phase Tim at all, because when Kon turns back to him, he's already picking up a spoon and sighing over a bowl of colorless soup.

"You all are also allowed to start your meal," the Voodoo Queen says, cutting raw steak on her plate gracefully.

They do, even though Kon can hear a few grumbles. Some dishes are shuffled around, to bring the vegetarian ones closer to Damian. It’s a testimony to how much they all value Tim – _the bats_ letting someone order them around, with just mild complaining.

Not a minute after, Tim throws his spoon onto the table.

“What’s that,” the witch queen asks calmly, still eating her steak, one small bite after another.

“I can’t,” Tim answers, frustrated.

“Yes you can,” the woman says calmly.

“I can’t eat it, it tastes like _nothing_!”

“Because if it tasted like _something_ , you’d throw up!” the witch finally lays aside her fork and knife. “I don’t have to tell you what your body had gone through, you can’t expect everything to go back to normal straight away. But you need to drink your medicine and eat _before_ that.”

Tim scrunches his face, but picks up the spoon.

“What are you giving him?” Batman asks, looking intensely at the food in front of Tim.

“I’m still in the room, Bruce,” Tim says, his tone irritated.

“Timmy,” the witch gasps. “You’re behaving like Kamala and she’s _five_.”

Tim shrugs and puts another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

And has to immediately put a hand over his lips, to hold it in.

The Voodoo Queen springs up from her sit to stand beside him, Batman lurking directly behind her. Signal holds on to Tim’s forearm that’s closer to him. Dick darts off his seat, too, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“S’too much,” Tim whispers, shaking off their hands.

“You gonna throw up, kid?” the witch asks and her voice is the softest they have heard today.

The woman puts a hand on Tim’s forehead. From where Kon sits, he sees sweat on it.

“M’not sure,” Tim says, leaning into her hand.

“Okay, so you’re drinking this, too.”

She puts a second vial with grayish liquid near the first one.

Superboy has no idea when the first one had appeared, but it looks like just some plain water in a fancy glass bottle.

Tim drinks both of them.

Just a minute later some color returns to his face, even though he still looks very tired.

“I’m sorry for making such a fuss,” Tim says, looking intently at the tablecloth and thus avoiding everybody’s gazes. “You can all take your sits now.”

The witch queen pats his hair and goes back to her steak. The others follow her example, going back to their food, still trying to subtly sneak glances at Tim.

Red Hood is the first one to try and fight against the awkward silence that settles in after the event.

“What, you throwin’ temper tantrums now, _baby bird_?” the man asks teasingly.

“Oh, you know, it’s just ‘case I was getting,” Tim pauses and then slowly turns his head to Jason. “Dead. Tired.”

Signal barks a disbelieving laugh and then slaps his hand over his own mouth.

“ _No_ ,” Dick says slowly, horrified.

Red Hood pales considerably, looking mildly nauseated. He looks around the room as if to find an ally. The people at the table are divided into horrified and amused ones. Batman is engrossed in some serious conversation with the witch – as far as Superboy can hear, it’s about Tim’s meds and menu.

"Don't you dare joke like that!" Hood finally croaks out.

"I was dead, Jason," Tim says sternly, as if scolding Hood for making him state something that obvious. "I'm allowed to joke about it."

“He can’t do that,” Jason sounds panicky. “Tell him he can’t do that, Dick!”

Dick, his eyes still horrified, whispers something about ‘ _there’s two of them, now_ ’ and does not answer.

There’s a small smirk on Tim’s lips.

“Also, how do I join the Dead Robins club you and Dami got there? I think it would be only fair.”

Superboy feels a tiny hand ruffle his hair. He turns to see Black Bat smiling at him with sympathy. She nods at Tim, then – puts a hand over Kon’s heart. And gets up from her sit to go and perch on the arm of the chair Batman is sitting in.

Tim and Jason are debating a quota for the death jokes and the general morality of using them at all.

Tim looks much better then a few minutes ago, the medicine, whatever it was, must have done it’s work.

Jason is saying something, gesturing wildly with his hands. Signal, caught between him and Tim, looks amused.

Then, finally, Tim turns his head and looks at Kon.

Maybe Cass was right, whatever Cass meant by that gesture.

Tim is still looking at him and Kon can’t read the complicated emotions in his eyes.

Still, he knows that they need to talk.

Kon has to act before his courage leaves him.

So he gets up and speeds towards Tim, takes him in his arms and flies towards a big window high up that’s been conveniently left open.

Tim gasps, but, just as before, puts his arms around Kon quickly.

Superboy doesn't know New Orleans very well and doesn't want to go far from it, so he settles on flying high up in the sky and staying there, among the clouds.

Him and Tim are facing each other, Tim’s legs dangling, so Kon wraps him in TTK for good measure.

It’s chilly here, so it’s not a surprise that Tim shivers.

It turns out that Tim’s wearing not a sweater, but a cardigan, so Kon pulls his hands under it, grasping Tim around the middle and pulling them flush chest to chest, to keep the warmth in. There’s only two layers of thin cotton between his and Tim’s skin, and Tim feels warm, warm and _alive,_ the fact which probably won’t stop dazing Kon any time soon.

Tim is looking at him, finally has him as his sole focus and Kon’s words get caught in his throat.

It also doesn't help that Tim’s arms are around his neck, despite the fact that TTK won’t let him fall even if he lets go.

“Hey,” Tim finally says in a small voice, not breaking eye contact even for a moment.

“Hi,” Kon says, suddenly shy. “Tim.”

Kon feels him shudder. Tim sighs and closes his eyes, then opens them slowly, like a content cat.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he says, his eyes shiny. “Not just you, but _you_ -you, the one who remembers me.”

“I'm _so_ sorry,” Kon starts.

Tim cuts him off by hiding his face in the crook of Superboy’s neck.

“S'not your fault.”

Kon wraps his arms closer, having Tim pressed to him at every inch of their bodies possible.

He can feel Tim’s breath on his chest, Tim’s heartbeat close to his.

He presses his nose to Tim’s hair, that’s matted and smells earthy for some reason, but is so _perfect_.

“I've missed you, I've missed you so much, too,” Kon whispers into Tim’s hair. “Fuck, Tim, you've _died_!”

Superboy still seems unable to let that go, moving his hand up and down Tim’s back, as if to reassure himself that the other is indeed alive and here, in his arms.

“Well, you died first,” Tim huffs into his shirt. “So this is payback.”

Kon stiffens. Was Tim serious about finding the death jokes funny?! Or did he get that fucked up humor from that woman, Marie, he had himself warned them about?

“You can’t hold me accountable for dying!” Superboy finally finds himself saying.

“I can and I am,” Tim says, his face still hidden in the crook of Kon’s neck.

Conner groans.

“Geeze you're impossible _! W_ _hy_ do I love you?”

Tim lifts his head swiftly, almost hitting Kon on the chin. There’s a puzzled expression on his face like it’s even a _question_ like there can be any goddamn _doubt._

“I do love you, Tim,” Kon says, softer.

“Tim?” he smiles and it’s strained. “Or mysterious _Elliot_?”

“Oh, you think you were so _mysterious?”_ Kon laughs.

Tim doesn't, so Kon has to start again.

“Tim and Elliot, all and each version of you.”

Tim exhales heavily, as if a heavy burden has fallen off his shoulders and smiles a small, soft smile of his that Kon loves so much - in Rob, Tim and Elliot combined.

“I love you, too,” Tim whispers softly.

Kon grins, which probably comes off as manic, but he doesn't care right now.

“I promised myself I’d kiss you senseless,” he confesses.

Tim looks at him like he’s the most surprising thing he’s ever seen. They’re pressed together so close that Kon can feel him shudder and Superboy thinks for a moment that maybe Tim doesn't want it, maybe he’ll turn him down, change his mind.

But then Tim says, his breath hot on Kon’s lips:

“Then, what's stopping you?”

They kiss and it's as perfect as Kon thought it would be, and Tim is in his hands, and everything is in place.

Everything is as it _should_ be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Tim and Kon spend 20 more mins up there, because Kon’s terrified to go back and face the whole Bat-clan after he stole Tim from them under their noses.
> 
> ch title form [r.i.d.](https://ridinkskinned.com/post/178090261844/im-living-babe-i-keep-the-taste-of-you-on-the)  
> (she's one of my favorite writers\poets and SHE'S BACK ON TUMBLR so go check her blog!)
> 
>  
> 
> Can't believe this is over!  
> Thank you, all of you, who have been here on this journey with me and had to wait for the new chapters to appear. Your comments kept me going!!  
> I'm both sad and happy to have this story (the main plot, there's 2 more short stories I'm planning 'cause someone here's not good at letting go) finished!  
> Sad, because it means a lot to me, as the first story ever I've shared online, and happy, because now I'll start working on other fics I have ideas for.  
> Hope you can find it in yourself to feel the same ☺️

**Author's Note:**

> 99,9% of my chapter titles are lines from poetry  
> Please, don't forget to leave a comment! None of them are too small and all comments are loved and cherished!
> 
> update - here's my FIXED [tmblr](http://unluckyloki.tumblr.com/)  
> come scream at me about comics\this fic\life in general


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